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Friday, 1 September 2017

The red mist


The red mist is the devil to the wise man's peace.

His reasoning and patience, his calm and his toughts.

For such storms explodes and fires lighting strikes

That are purposeful to sabotage, good reasoning

I have sat with sage too many times to have forgotten what he looks like.

But sometimes I just walk past in a hurry with such speeds

In search of him, when it matters most

Watching a fish drown in its own habitat

Today I found my medicine after yesterday's red mist

We are wise, yes indeed we are, the world knows we are

But foolish at the edges where stitches that hold our strings  together become undone

Sage warned me about this, he said he experienced it himself

That to all wise men, be careful of the red mist.

It is the devil to a wise man's peace

It is the devil to a wise man's peace. 

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