Fog

In billows of pillows of ethereal mist
In shrouds of clouds it turns and twists
Flowing and settling on life when it's new
It alerts many and attracts just a few

Parallel shafts of light and glare
A stark universe-frightenly bare
We're uniquely alone and flying blind
Quite unknowing-what's ahead and behind

When darkness descends on this mystical place
It adds to the blindness the lost must face
The light that leads reflects off the fog
We flounder and tarry in this alien bog

In billows of pillows depression descends
In shrouds of clouds we pray for an end
We have no control of this fog of the mind
We wait for the clearings-and bide our time

by Ray Andrews

Comments (2)

This is such a great poem Ray! I love the rhyme......such a great rhythm to this! I really enjoyed this. Sincerely, Mary
A brilliant, figurative description of fog and a brilliant use of fog as a metaphor, all with a brilliantly matching style. Susie.