Author Information
Wisps Of Smoke
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Published Works
It's not easy being free, even in the lost
chill of early morning fog. Face pressed
against glass smeared with imprints of
tomorrow etched casually in the soul.
I try to find my way to the old memories;
they beckon like burning fires in the darkness
of the night. I can feel the heat of them but
I cannot clearly recall the wood that
started the pyre. Everything I believed
was clearly seconds of time now lost in
dripping taps that ran rusted water in
the aftermath of surviving.
It's not easy flying into the air in machines
of silver steel that creates hazy imprints
on the rocky ledge of sanity. There are
wisps of smoke somewhere in the corner
of my eye. I turn ever so slowly in the
belief that I can once again capture the
essence of the footprints I left behind.
They are gone. They have been wiped
clean from the blood-boiled sky. Fly
on, great beast of grey. Let the logo
on your side be a symbol of decay in
the faceless intimidation of rushing
thoughts which suddenly have no
substance.
It's not easy being free, and so I give
in to the reality of prison walls. They
not only trap me, they define me. I
am as lost as all the other sheep forcing
attitudes to act as forms of opinions.
There may have been a chance for release,
but rather than face it head on I put out
the fire and worship the wisp of smoke
that remains.
