The sky is fog,
And I pierce my hand into its depths,
Yet I don't make it even half way through,
But glance a trailing blow along its teeth,

And - a little slower than a run - I turn to jog,
Under the fathomless sky in all its breadth,
And I feel my breath again renew,
And trust the sturdy path beneath my feet,

Although I only see a glimpse below,
For the sky is fog.