When cloud descends onto familiar land
it curtains off the scene of our surroundings
which daylight shows us – fountains, flowers, trees.
Pedestrians venturing forth into the mist
carry torches which cast halos on the ground
but show little of the way ahead.
A wanderer who steps forth without a compass
is fated to walk round in futile circles
until the hanging rises and reveals
meadows, dewy grass and fellow beings
the sight of whom inspires joyful greetings.
When sapphire blue and emerald green look grey
the dullness emanates not from a leaden sky
but from behind the tired eyes that once
pierced like lasers through the ambient air,
rejoiced in colours seen in arching rainbows,
the fur of black cats basking in the sun,
the tossing hair of dancing girls and boys.
Our enemy today is obfuscation
when the mind is muddled and confused,
victim of tyrants who would rule the world,
hellbent on plunging truth into a furnace
so it emerges twisted and deformed.
Let us heed the warnings of the wise
who’d save us from the muddy murk of lies.