The temporary nature of FOG
We've been studying and memorizing Carl Sandburg's poem, Fog.
The fog comes on little cat feet.
It sits looking over harbor and city... and barns(!), I might add, Mr. Sandburg.
on silent haunches
and then moves on.
Mr. Sandburg--Have you been? Do you know? That the fog also sits looking over barn and paddock and human psyche? Harbor and city--yes, barn and paddock--I witness every morning. But, now Mr. Sandburg, I am coming to see that the fog perhaps, is most present not in these nature scapes, but in the mind of the human. The fog that fills the head is dense and stupefying. We earth dwellers stumble around in it and bump into each other with such regularity--it is no wonder that we have forgotten to notice its presence.
Is this what the writer of antiquity meant, then, when he penned these words:
For now we see through a glass, darkly;
but then face to face:
now I know in part;
then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known
Ahhh yes, to see clearly is good, but to be seen clearly; to be known and loved fully--that is the promise--the promise we cling to and dare to hope for: to be ultimately known and absolutely cherished. Thank you, God, for promises fulfilled.
September 24, 2011 | Share: