The Perfect Fog

It is a good day for standing at the edge of the world.
A bit grey, symbolic and preventing sunburn
when you settle in and stay longer than is comfortable to most. .
You do that a lot. Stare into space and time and fog
as if you had a prescience, as if you could see the future,
looking like a wise man.

Which could be no further from the truth.
No, you are slow to see what is, slow to judge,
slower still to feel. But what you do well, is wait,
and so here you are. The water crashing on the stone.
The rocks just a bit wet under your feet.

Fog, so approprate,
the perfect vagueness, allows you to see
that there is something there. But not what that might be
drifting in the distance.
No matter. You have time. That is what you tell yourself
despite your age and the wear and tear
of an interesting life.

It is the perfect fog. Vague but not blinding.
A place you are comfortable with,
a gamblers fog as you decide to push through
or simply stay here at the end of the jetty
and wait for the sun. The good news is,
as it often is, that there is no wrong answer,
simply different journeys.

About this poem

Inspired by Mark Rothko’s quote “Silence is so accurate.”. The older I get, the more I appreciate Rothko. His art and his thinking. Today this quote and this painting (below) resonate.

Tom