Meditation on a Foggy Beach

You walk.
Mist fills the horizon.
Wave lap quietly at your side.

How far has it been?
Years. Decades.
Long enough you have become accustomed
to your blindness,

You long ago gave up any pretense
to knowing what is ahead.
You know some of the journey will be beautiful,
and other portions wretched.
You will stumble.
You will rise and walk again.

wondering, always wondering,
at a God who lights the way
and yet still, loves the fog.