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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.