in the haze, in a daze

a heavy gloom falls lightly
silently, draping in unfamiliar grey
this city of black and white.
it hangs, prevalent and unacknowledged
by the denizens, whose hands
are thrust a little deeper
into pockets of comfort, whose steps are
more frantic, more frenzied.
but the streets are desolate anyway
today. the lines of the city,
of the neighbourhood are blurred
and only silhouettes and mirages remain,
phantom and dull, amid an unholy mist
of fine, fine dust, in curious suspension
over all. i am grateful for the light.