street fog

There's something especially mystical and astounding about fog ascending from the streets and sidewalks surrmy home, my office, and just about everywhere I go today. That was just part of the freaky deaky weather that day. snow, hail, tornadic wind (not to be confused with Titanic winds). And when these bullies weren't tromping around, fog would come back to take their place. It was there for a long time, but it's very rare for fog to do that and just steam off the streets for hours. I would see things like this only a couple times every year. Either way, I get into this different mood when I see it and walk through it. I want to run through it. I don't care how cold it is; I want to take a jog and run as fast as I can through the visiting clouds having them curl behind me as I disturb their constantly rising dance born from the grounds where us mortals dwell. It's mysticality caused my mind to trace back to climactic battles in Hollywood born in fate and drawn out in this same fog embracing trunks of great oaks unknowingly amidst clashes of steel and limits of courage. I recalled vast and seemingly otherworldly scenes painted out in colors of red, green, and blue-ray on a plasma canvass candidly capturing planet Earth at its most savage, extravagant, and strange. These thoughts passed through my mind in the short walk I take from my car to the doors of my office. I didn't act out on any of these thoughts. I didn't run that day or fight some epic battle or rent Planet Earth on blue-ray. I simply had a moment of awe that took it's course in my heart, slowly replaced with convictions of responsibility and duty (I had a busy day that day). I sat at my desk and began to sort out my day. I still couldn't help looking out the window during times of slow brain output and just wondering.