Headlights

Headlights emerging from the dark,
fog-enshrouded highway
glow bigger, brighter
as if coming out of the mists of time
and pass beyond my vision
blinding my mind and senses.

For an instant they are clear
and reach their apex
with only a hint of fog between us.

They disappear,
are gone.

More come and go,
in groups or singly,
an incessant line,
yet broken.

Behind those lights
are lives,
full of pleasure, pain, tragedy,
dying,
exuberant with life.

In from the mists of time they pass me.

I know them all too briefly
or not at all.

The fog remains.