Original DDE™ surreal art: “The Fog” by: rob kistner © 1/7/25
The fog rolled ‘cross the lowlands, a smothering damp and languid chill, dense with dread. Twilight having receded, moonlight labored hard, shouldering its way through the thickening shroud.
The gnarled shape of leaf-dead trees, with their spindly spiked branches, thrust skyward, knobbed and twisted. Their trunks bending and swaying menacingly.
Muffled deep within the gloom of the grove, a wind throbbed, like a drone of seeming voices, in dark entangled disembodied chant. This night memories rose. Memories of glory, memories of wealth, memories of conquests, lustful memories of sensuous willing lovers. These are memories of powerful magic.
stolen from your ancestors
this night — take them back
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rob kistner © 1/7/25
Poetry at: dVerse