Evanescence

Evanescence
 
I saw the tall mountain,
  Its bald pate adorned in a mist
That styled itself a colonial powder wig,
  Curls above the shoulders,
Trailing in the wind
  To a bow tied pony tail
That vanished, wasting away, to
  Clean clear air that left no trail

Do not ask me, I do not know
  Where it is to our old thoughts go,
Creations of the wind,
  Alighting on the mind,
Escaping grasp, so thin,
  Do not end or begin,
And when they fly away –
  Wherever it is to they’re bound, 
In that aether garden of repose
  No dew or mist is ever found