whither report

*

the fog,

swirling around in a grey

and clinging mist -

a

characteristic smell

pervades the ether..

there is

comfort in the anonymity provided

by this velvet-hued curtain.

head dipped down, making progress

 forward in a blindly trusting way

what cannot be seen

cannot be a threat

ne'ertheless,

the curtain has to rise..

eventually;

stark reality inevitably reappears,

 the sharp and vibrant shapes

of the world

manifest, often causing fear

 and

apprehension..

many trials precede

understanding,

myriad reality checks

cause consternation..

eventually however,

with faith and patience,

the reality that lies

quivering

behind the veil

of conceit and self obsession

beckons..

the starkness and inviolability

of the truth

becomes an eternal succour;

the fog no longer contains more

 than merest illusion,

the wizened mind burns

it away to sit more properly in the

blazing light

of understanding and

steadfast Presence.

*

Re: whither report

I've always been fascinated by mist and fog - so lovely, both picture and poem!