Poets logo

Monks In The Highland Mist


By Paul CrockerPublished 3 years ago 1 min read

They are not seen.

They are not felt.

They wander inbetween.

Where they once had dwelt.

The monks in the highland mists.

Over heather and loch equally.

They move with ease.

Surrounding unknown tourists creepily.

Like an invisible disease.

The monks in the highland mists.

In the dead of night.

Their chants can be heard.

Nobody knows the prayers they recite.

As they do not say a recognised word.

The monks in the highland mists.

I told you that they are not seen.

I admit to you I lied.

For what you witnessed travelling over the moss so green.

Were the spirits of the holy men that died.

The monks are the highland mists.

surreal poetry

About the Creator

Paul Crocker

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights


There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment

    Find us on social media

    Miscellaneous links

    • Explore
    • Contact
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms of Use
    • Support

    © 2024 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.