The ethereal cloak of a misty morn
It's cutting chill like daggers drawn
The day to come, beyond the dawn, is hidden 'neath the gloom
The air sits silent, feels the threat
Of the damp and shifting faery net
Occluding thought as minds are met
Lest optimism blooms
The breeze laid low, its breath is still
The only sound the old church bell
Which peals a question, "heaven or hell?"
You choose the daily tune
But then a glimpse, a muted glow
The shroud retreats its heavenly show
To lick its wounds and so lay low
Thus light has ousted gloom
So use your spells your chants your wit
For sadness is a lousy fit
It creeps and claws and seeps and picks
If you allow it room
Yet once released from darkened clouds
Your message will be clear and loud
To banish such unwanted shrouds
And send them to their doom
For like your strength, your mood will lift
And far away that shroud will drift
To be replaced by welcome gifts
Of peace and fortitude
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