The Enveloping Fog

A soft, fuzzy fog, furry and grey, crept in
silently to cover the breaking of this day.
Its carpeting of the landscape opaque,
not permitting of view or distance. Eyes
groped to find dimensions or outline,
but none presented to view. None but a
pewter veil resistant to visual penetration.

Then what one cannot see, does it exist?
Shapes and colours straining against the
moist grey density, is that a mirage of
memory reluctant to lapse, or a declaration
of hidden existence? The answer lies in the
passage of early morning hours, the
passive surrender until the atmosphere
above begins its inevitable resistance.

Through the sun's irresistible plasmid
rays burning its signature onto the muted,
dismal scene below freezing the hidden
disappearance, the illusory curtain of grey
disintegrates. Yet stubbornly resistant,
determined to prevail, the humid grey cloud
slowly succumbs, revealing all it had
hidden in its vanishing imperative.

The bright orb of the sun has prevailed,
processing its daily roast. But even its
powerful glow has its limits, as dissipation
is hollowed but not halted. For in the
forested ravine, heavy humidity persists
and another veil unfurls, the mists.