When the Fog Blows Over

When the fog blows over,
An image, a vision appears,
It becomes clear, and clearer,
When the fog begins to blow over,
You see things you'd never seen,
More focused, sharp,
Like a camera tuning into focus.

When the fog blows over,
A new day is presented to you,
The vastness of everyday life is clear,
The bustle, and hustle and joy you see,
Once covered and hidden, now left to be seen,
A bright light, a new voice, a familiar face,
You are stunned by these things, that always went unnoticed.

When the fog blows over,
You turn, hoping to see,
Hoping to see, the fog,
For the fog kept things unclear,
Kept you hidden, away from the reality,
Away from the tedious day, drawn out, made long,
You hope, you wait, but now things are quite clear.

When will the fog come back?
And wrap its gentle arms around you?
And protect, and preserve those things that were still unkown to you?
When will it come, and innocently guide you away?
For that is what you missed, when things were unclear,
Left to be unknown.

Oh, when will this fog come back?