The Fog

The fog descended. Nothing could be seen.

The chairs out on the balcony were wet.

He held her by the waist. She leaned

Over the fence and threw the cigarette,

Which at the time was lit, to see it mark

Its path across the grayness of the mist

And when at last it vanished in the dark,

It dawned on her that all of us exist

Just in the moment of some endless chase,

For one another radiating light,

So as to guide each other through the maze,

Which one, alone, cannot discern at night.