I Saw Myself In the Morning Mist
A Poem of Self Reflection
I saw myself in the morning mist
as it hovered o'er the lake.
While I watched the vapor vanish,
I realized my fate.
The mist keeps rising skyward,
till it falls in drops of rain
To complete its vital cycle
and become the lake again.
This body is just vapor,
and the world is but a lake.
I am constantly ascending
with every breath I take.
I will reach my zenith,
as I draw my final breath
And rain upon the landscape
at the moment of death.
About the Creator
Fred Bobbitt
I am a rural American poet. I find inspiration in the simple things which comprise a country lifestyle.
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More stories from Fred Bobbitt and writers in Poets and other communities.
Do You Know?
Do you know why everybody was Kung Fu fighting on a bridge over troubled water? Do you know the night they drove old Dixie down, was a long time before the night Chicago died? If so, then I'm sure you are aware that nights in white satin surrounded by the sound of silence are all right during the week, but everybody's working for the weekend because Saturday night's all right for fighting or for practicing your night moves down on Main Street at the Hotel California. If you disagree with me on this, you can take the highway to Hell or fly like an eagle over to sweet home Alabama.
By Fred Bobbitt8 years ago in Poets
Day 4 of Quitting
If this is how sobriety feels, maybe it’s better to go through life a little buzzed… this, along with other hits like, I want to kill myself, I wish I was dead, and I’m going to throw myself off a bridge have been the only thoughts on rotation these past few days. I promise myself that if, in a month, I still feel like this (‘this’ meaning despondent, full of rage, and simultaneously numb) I can go back to smoking. Until mid-February though? Nicotine is off the table.
By sleepy drafts4 days ago in Longevity
Comments (1)
The flow of words is mesmerizing.