The sun rises
hidden at first
then illuminates the sky
as if through a sheer fabric
wrapped in strands of loose cotton
The air thickens
like fat cooling
obscuring the world
opaque
The lansacape that was once buildings
now becomes a stage
a gray backdrop
on which to project the imagination
The world stops at the front door
extending no further than
an outstretched hand
but as I move forward
the secrets of the fog are revealed
I stop
I don’t want to move forward
I don’t want to know the fog’s secrets
I want to stay here
imagining what the world could be
on the other side of that fog
a world of possibilities
