This morning’s fog deletes everything
trapped in its unrelenting presence;
undifferentiated grey erases horizons.
This particular mist is more than merely
droplets of suspended water; is more
than even the best poet’s metaphor.
This is the total and ultimate cloak
from which there can be no escape;
a haze which will never surrender to
sunrises beyond imaginary hillsides,
or tentative breezes across landscapes
of allegedly deep-forested valleys.
Movement through this fog requires
more than simple force of will. Nothing,
caught in this air, can even tremble.
Open Link Night #281