Fog

Fog

Heavy fog covers the ground obscuring the trees.  I came on quickly settling silently.  Quiet, quick, and relentless this fog, entering my world without request. Obscuring my view, halting my vision, stopping my sight.  Fog.  To what do I owe this blight? 

While it yields to my hand, parting at my slightest whim, it returns as if it never left.  My sight does not grow at the waving of my hand. The light just past my view offering a dim warmth does not grow brighter.  Why is this cascading frustration entering my reality? 

Stand I will and fight this fog.  But while I thrash and strain, I gain nothing, the fog simply parts and returns as if I have simply been standing silent, steady, unmoving.  I could shout but do my words carry in this muck, this pea soup? Does sound carry in this denseness?

The more I search, the more I move the only thing I see is fog.  This fog.  Just how far does it go?  Is there an out, an edge, freedom?  Or is there just a fog that simply remains?  Searching now, hoping for relief all I see is deeper fog, denser clouds of obscuring. 

The light should come, should penetrate this fog, perhaps even banish it.  The light should come.  Perhaps it is just over the horizon and will arrive in mere moments. I have but to wait, to be patient. The light will come. 

As I wait, is there someone to wait with me?

Blessings