Into the Light by Dorothy Pierson

The morning fog hangs low in the valleys

Without view of river or tree.

It folds around my world

And closes me in with me.

I direct my thoughts upward

Searching for the light

Like an airplane powered skyward

Steadily gaining height

Above the closed-in ground.

Upwards thoughts, Godward!

You don't have to be bound

In doubt or fogged by fear.

The light of God is constant

And faith's radar sees though, clear.

Oh, Thank You, God of mind's heaven!

I learn from this earthborn sight

That the fog of my unknowning

Clears as I reach the Light!