Myth or Mist

The mists of fantasy obscure her from view
and all we see is what we imagine
a beautiful vision beaconing us
calling only us to her breast

Minds embrace her welcome and we rise up
and clamor to join her
arms wide and hearts open
unrestrained and eager we run

Her image fades in the fog
yet we race on to that destiny
we have formed in our dreams
knowing it is our fate and reward

She disappears before us
leaving only a shimmering trace
as we stop and fall down
and face the reality of our lives

She is a seraphim
an angel much of our creation
a goddess to serve and adore
offering pleasures never given

Visions are never real
for you cannot touch them
they are vapor and imagination
and are of your own mind

We trudge on then, heart heavy
disillusioned once more
disappointed and cursing the gods
that taunt us in our frailties

They offer a taste of sweetness
but no matter how often we drink
we cannot be sated
for no satisfaction comes from fantasy alone