Fog

A charcoal gray cloud sits on the water,

As both the shoreline and the sun

Press down on the receding fog

To create another reality.

Buildings and people emerge

From the land-hugging cloud,

Their transformation to yesterday’s shape

Still incomplete.

Is the half-revealed man invalid

Because I recall another morning

When there was no ambiguity, 

No undefined limitation?

If a last reconfiguration 

Of the dispersing mist,

Momentarily erases his existence,

How convincing is his image?

When the sun  prevails,

And I can assert that the man is complete,

Should I not allow for further changes that

My mind and eye may create?

Is not all understanding a matter

Of the moment,

That demands of the brain a permanence

Which will surely prove incandescent, but transitory?