A/N: This morning I woke up and the whole valley I live in was covered with fog. This was such a beautiful picture and since I had read some mystical book the evening before I was inspired to write this poem.

When reading it you should imagine a gray and foggy November evening, being inside a warm house, outside the wind is blowing, the last leaves falling of the trees and suddenly - when you look closer - it seems that something is moving over the empty land. You can´t see it clearly - it´s only like a shadow but at the same time less visible. (If you are watching X-Files, you know what I mean ;-)) It seems like you´re peeking into another world through a window and watch other people doing other things - but this ´another world` is your world only covered by mist, and these ´other people` are like shadows. Try to imagine and read then!

Door to the shadows

When fog covers the world

Everything disappears,

The dead will live again.

The door to the shadows stands open wide.

When fog covers the world,

It's the time when forgotten things come up again

To remember the living.

When fog covers the world

The borders between here and yonder mix,

Things beyond memory become alive again.

The world is different when  fog covers everything.

The tales become true.

And closed in houses, beyond firm walls we watch,

The world outside becoming alive.

Like shadows things appear,

But real they are, for nothing that once existed

Can die without leaving a trace behind.

When fog covers the world

Traces are no longer traces,

Shadows are no longer shadows,

Memories are no longer memories.

The door between here and yonder stands open wide.