The Veil of White Silence

The White Silence walks the land,

With silver breath and unseen hand;

It lays the Veil on hill and tree,

And whispers truths the eye can’t see.

Where paths forget their mortal names,

And shadows dream of sacred flames,

The soul awakes, the heart stands still—

For Heaven bends to Nature’s will.

Fog is like an invisible artist who gently erases the boundaries of the world with a soft brush. It arrives quietly, without warning, wrapping everything around it in a smoky veil. In its embrace, familiar landscapes are transformed: trees become shadows, roads turn into riddles, and sounds fade into muted whispers of distant voices.

Everything feels magical, as if in a new galaxy, on the set of a newly born Universe. One wants to slow down, listen to the silence, and try to unravel what lies beyond the next bend.

This is a time for reflection, when the borders between the real and the mysterious merge.

Trying to Catch the Fog

Can you try to “catch” the fog?

No — it slips away, leaving only a cool trace in the palm of your hand.

The fog spreads like the breath of the earth itself: nature knows how to astonish.

And what does fog mean to you?

Perhaps it is a source of creative inspiration, or a metaphor for the unknown.

Today, there is fog outside my window.

Fog and Witchcraft

Fog has traditionally been associated with witchcraft. It covers the earth with a dense shroud, concealing objects from human sight.

I am deeply in love with autumn fogs, when everything around becomes enchanted. Droplets of water, holding entire worlds within them, hang on leaves like a precious necklace.

When the silhouettes of familiar shapes are hidden beneath a milky or softly bluish haze, it feels as though a fantastical painting of another world is being born before one’s eyes. Past, present, and future merge in this magical dream. There is nothing tangible in it, yet it exists — it is real, and it has come now, in this very moment, uniting reality and illusion.

By hiding the scenery of everyday life, the fog leaves us alone with ourselves.

The world is transformed; you can be anywhere — wherever your heart is.

This is the magic of autumn.

Love Magic in the Fog

There existed spells performed in the fog to attract a husband’s love. For this ritual, a woman had to dress in white and stand in the middle of the fog. In such an appearance, the milky-white fog — the spirit of nature — would take her for one of its own.

With special reverence and devotion, she would then address the fog with a prayer-incantation:

“Fog, my fog! I have come to you…

Find the double of my husband, pour milk into him,

Place love for me, your servant, into his heart.

Amen.”

Battle Magic and the Character­nyky

In the south-western regions of Rus’, there existed a special category of sorcerers who used the ability to control fog for military purposes. These people were known as character­nyky. In the Middle Ages, they were believed to be especially numerous among the Zaporizhian Cossacks.

Character­nyky were skilled fighters — experienced and well-trained. They differed from other Cossacks in that they used enchantments in battle. Through their magic, they scarcely felt pain, could transform into wolves and foxes, escape from traps and tightly bound sacks, and, guided by an almost animal instinct, locate treasures buried centuries earlier.

One of the most important skills of these warrior-sorcerers was the ability to command the fog. If the balance of power in a battle clearly favoured the enemy, the character­nyky would summon fog upon them. While enemy soldiers wandered blindly through the milky haze, the Cossacks would eliminate them one by one. In this way, the use of magic helped them win battles that initially seemed doomed to defeat

White Silence

Fog comes without footsteps,

without a name,

a quiet guest

who rearranges the world.

It softens corners,

loosens time,

teaches roads to forget

where they were going.

In fog, the past exhales,

the future hesitates,

and the present becomes

a breath held too long.

It asks nothing,

explains nothing —

only invites the soul

to walk more slowly.

And when it leaves,

taking its secrets with it,

the world returns unchanged,

But we are not.