Rising Waters

The waterline is rising
    and all we do is stand there.
Stand in the same stagnant quagmire
     that covers the same worn
          (worn out)
path... waiting to drown.

A thick mist rises,
     a fetid cloud covering our eyes
Blinding us, making us stumble
          (repeating mistakes).

Moist, wispy tendrils wrap around us;
     a comforting feeling
          (complacency).

Day in, day out, breathing damp
     putrid air needing
A good stiff breeze to break away;

A fresh new hard blow,
     not an old stale blow hard.