Deja Vu

What is that light, I wonder?

As the fog clouds my eyes;

Is it whole or asunder,

Atop that mountain of ice?

What is that noise, I inquire?

As the forests thicken in my path;

The crackling of a fire,

Or the bubbling of a bath?

What lurks, what crouches, what glides?

On the edge of my sight;

What whispers on those jagged sides,

And cackles in the night?

The boughs are gnarled, the woods twisted

And puddles drain away;

The change of wind is resisted,

And a humid breeze holds sway.

At long last the trail dwindles,

A welcome sight for man;

But it ends in fearsome circles,

For alas, it’s where we first began.