During the night the fog rose up silently out of the ocean.  There was no splash, no defiant challenge, no martial call, it simply gathered in silence.  From the shore it first appeared as a distant haze, a blurring of the lights from fishing boats, of stars, and of the line of the horizon.  Gradually it solidified, rising up like a mighty wall in the distance before slowly beginning a steady march towards the land.  As it advanced it swallowed up everything in its path, nothing could stop its progress.

The fog didn’t hit the land with a concussion or with force of any kind, it simply took it.  It wrapped itself around everything it encountered, brushing up against everything without ever really touching anything, clearly visible to the eye and yet impossible to reach out and grasp.  Up close it no longer appeared solid, it appeared to be there, and yet not be there.  Other objects could be seen through it, and yet what could be seen was obscured.  When light was used in an effort to cut through it, the fog wrapped itself like a cocoon around the light before throwing the light back into the face of the source of the light.  Wherever it went, a damp signature was left on every object it encountered.

In the night it ruled supreme over the land.  No challenge was mounted, no resistance could be found.  It extended across the beaches, over the flat lands and into the valleys where it wrapped itself around the coastal hills.  While the fog completely disregarded everything that moved in it and took no effort to cause damage, wreak havoc it did among any who dared disregard it and move too hastily.  It was the lord of all it encountered.

This continued through the night until the fog was discovered by the rising sun.  Of all the powers of nature, only two are able to defeat the fog, the wind, which is fickle, and just as often aids the fog, and the sun.  Of these two, the sun is the chief.  Like the fog, the sun rises out of the ocean and covers the land.  Unlike the fog, the sun rises with the roar of a mighty host, beginning with the songs and calls of birds, the buzzing of bees and the chatters of squirrels.  The sun unfurls itself, spreading itself over the land, touching everything, warming all, exposing anything it touches.

As the sun encountered the fog, the fog dug in and clutched at everything it had seized during the night.  The sun was patient, it had fought this battle since before time and was confident in its victory.   The fog began to lose its form, starting from the top and working down.  The edges of the fog started to shred, desperate fingers grasping at the land, striving not to give up what it had seized during the night.  Still the sun continued to advance, calmly, not violently, orange, peach, yellow and red against the blue hues of the sky.  The fog attempted to wrap itself around these colors like it had around the lights in the night, but was itself overwhelmed by the colors, merely flaring them out and making them even more majestic to behold.  The top of the fog flattened as it shrank away from the sun, allowing the sun to peer over it just as it had peered over the hills.  Slowly the fog was thrown back into the ocean, leaving wispy shades of itself to hover over the land briefly before dissipating into nothingness as the sun warmed the land.

And so it was during the night and the morning, and so it shall be yet again, and many times again after that.