graveyard

mist rises from the ground,  obscuring day/ month/ year;
leaving only names and messages  with meanings long forgotten,
and emotions long since stilled.
now and then shadows weave dark against the mist -
like other selves they slip between the stones
seeking a peace as elusive as wills-o'-the-wisp.

my breath is a vacuum in which i exist.

in eldritch silence,
with vision blurred and judgement unstable,
i seek one grave in which to bury the weight of my past.