Fog

Can't see more than a few spaces in front of you.
The world is transformed, from known to doubt.
Some things you are sure you remember where
They are put. Others are a soupy mix, unclear.
So you slow, grope, try to feel where it is safe.
So you can put the next foot forward, or you
Stand safe in the wonder of lifting, moving,
Swirling patterns of form, like ghosts. Moving
At their own will and disappearing into more.
What is it that wants us to be so sure of the next
Move? Why can't we stay and watch it swirl?
Melting in and out of the shadows of mystery,
Beyond us. Beyond knowing what is. Wonder
Is a place to be too, a seat of being known in a
Different way than we are used to. Glory in it.