A Dense Fog

A Dense Fog

It had set in the night before, but I was still surprised to be greeted come morning by a dense fog. Though the pillar of cloud appeared to block my way, the cotton ball aura yeilded to my car as I turned out of the driveway and onto the road. O coma way o coma way say I, sang U2 as I made my way through the neighborhood. I wasn't so much coma way-ing as goina way-ing to work. A new day obscured by clouds.

Life appears as a scene obscured by a dense fog. Events in the present are visible, moreso the closer they come. Events in the future or past, in front or behind, become hazy and eventually invisible. Experience and present view give an idea of what lies ahead, but only that. Efforts to project into the future, like high beams that shine back off of fog, often prove futile and have the unintended effect of blinding the view to the present.

On through the mist, the world white washed in wetness, I continued on my way. The skyline is still purified by the lather of clouds stretching up and over my twelth floor window. Awake without caffein, I wait for the coffee to be ready. Anticipation of future events confused with the awareness of the present and the memory of the past.


And you know it's time to go
Through the sleet and driving snow
Across the fields of mourning to a
Light that's in the distance

And you hunger for the time
Time to heal, desire, time
And your earth moves beneath
Your own dream landscape

Oh, oh, on borderland we run...
- U2