The morning fog has come ,

The chilling descent of a confusing curtain,

The realm seemingly leading into another world,

A sign of evil or something beautiful behold.

A caring sway of the white.

Seemingly leading us further and further,

In the mist of the fog,

A world of nowhere, nowhere a world.

From the colours of angels,

To a more grim grey of menace,

A careless blur from one to another,

Mixing the emotions to hate and love.

After it arrives it goes,

When Apollo’s charioted starts to ride.

Te morning fog had come,

And gone.