In the Fog

Inaccessible trees
stand in the fog
as the limits to my world
a fog dense and metaphysical
trees alien as my cavernous thoughts
a few brave lifeless sticks emerge from the snow
the milky wind brushing
whitening them slowly
with the impassible oblivion
that has set in,
an ivory spell
led astray into this cold nook
of washed away eternity,
while I’m encapsulated
in the immobility
of this white extraneous soul
a pleasing despair
that is felt
after each
footstep in the ice.