The Land of Mist

I once forsook the sun and moon, and sought the land of mist,
Enchanted twice by Hermes’ boon, and by the naiads kissed.
Across the opalescent sea, and o’re those mountains high,
Where dreamers dare not wander free, and Elohim won’t fly,
I found the land of visions fair, and promises unkept,
And weary to my soul with care, I lay me down and slept.

I dreamed a palace, marble white, all laced with veins of gold,
And all were awe struck at the sight, and at the tales told.
And when I woke, I raised my head, I saw a grassy mound,
The mist drew back and shadows fled, and there the palace found.
How fairer still, reality, than misty half-formed dreams,
How wondrous would the future be, would Hod be what it seems.

But when I climbed the emerald rise, to reach the palace height,
The mist closed in before my eyes, and veiled it from my sight.
How e’re I sought I could not find the fleeting vision’s stone,
And so I left the dream behind, and wandered on alone.
No comp’ny in that land of dreams, no living thing bestirred,
No birdsong sweet, or chuckling streams, and never voices heard.

I saw a city from afar, alive with light and sound,
Where wondrous sculpted fountains are, on every corner found,
A mountain washed by melting snow, a life-tree in the rain,
A fall with dancing flames aglow, a pool with swan and crane.
But when the city gates I sought, the mist again closed in,
A veil of loss and blindness wrought, across what might have been.

So every vision, every dream, beheld in colors bright,
Or glimpsed by golden lantern’s gleam, in misty still twilight,
Betrayed the hopes inspired so, and future passion slew.
And so I turned my back to go, back to the world I knew,
Where joyful wonder’s rarely moved, and beauty’s ever flawed,
Yet with a touch existence proved, unlike the sights of Hod.

But sun and moon are lost to sight, in swirling mists they hide,
No stars bedeck the peaceful night, a traveler for to guide.
No north or south, no east or west, no hope to find my way,
And in this lonely search no rest, no peace by night or day,
For somethings darkling lurk unseen, within the mists they hide,
They seek the dreamer’s subtle sheen, and will no light abide.

No longer do the visions stir, I do not pay them mind,
There’s horror where the wonders were, and nightmares come in kind.
No more I tarry pondering, but ever onward flee,
No more the aimless wandering, with lamp or lantern free,
For shadows rule the mists of Hod, and have no love of men,
And I shall ne’er endure their god, nor see my home again.