Mist

I fumble through the empty street

Where the ground and vapour meet.

The veiling grey along the way

Greets me with a dumb dismay.

Vapour exhales from the ground

Where the changing shapes are found,

And wraps me in a veil profound.

Creeping incessantly along,

I know not right from wrong,

But I feel my way and grope

Along the contour of the slope.

Misconceptions, all things, grow

Along the vacant vapour’s flow.

Lingering, bewildering,

The mist insists, resists, persists.

Now clamping down it enfolds, now desists,

Furtively, stealthily, silently,

It has dominion over me –

Exuding its presence everywhere,

Like a thief who comes at night,

Stealing on us unaware.

Obscuring all things, hiding shapes,

Over the land its shroud it drapes,

And comes between us and realisation.