Light takes on the color of the fog.
God must use a kind of baby talk.
His blinding truths would leave us all agog.
Minds shattered, we would only gawk.
Light takes on the color of the fog.
Think of religion as a strange graffiti,
hinting of things beyond our grasp. And yet
the words bring comfort. They hold us sweetly,
as mothers croon when babies are upset.
Light takes on the color of the fog.