The Fog Poem by Martin Carey

The day is cold,
the fog engulfs,
the light is dimmed, the road unclear.
Which way to walk, I cannot tell,
how can I know the chosen way?
I fear the cold that touches souls,
the rawness of the shrouded day.

Yet despite my fear, my cold, my lack, there is some little light to see,
some little warmth that still remains.
My foot can move,
tis but a step,
yet that small move has calmed the fear and warmed the soul.
The fog remains, but surely less,
the light contends with this deep cold;
and so I move still much unsure,
yet knowing that the light will lead.