fog is but the breath of ghosts (revisited)

fog is but the breath of ghosts
spectres hanging from the clouds
whispers from their sullen hearts
fill the skies with heavy purples
and help usher in a night who speaks truth in sad tones
the chatter of the wordless
dances like a swelling army of locusts
and bringing in the rear
like a parade of tattered divinities
the anjels, demons, gods and devils
add their piece to the patchwork
a story without time and limit
reciting itself between gusts of the wind
a book whose first page is the same as the last