A fire burns on a moonlit beach
The sand still burns from the sun.
It is as if watching from a distance
My only source of light, of sight,
The flame of which I fix my gaze.

Inhale me like the smoke it emits
Breathe deep and dream of brighter days.
Is that sun one of legend?
Was I ever warm?
I've never forgotten the cold.
So much so I could see my own breath,
Even that is seen in the air
Only to disappear in seconds.

It was all a vivid dream
that felt so real.
So close I could reach out
And touch the heat,
In a sense I could grasp the smoke.

Reality has been twisted
And history rewritten
Fore I was once smoke
But Ive since faded into the night.
Could I ever feel the fire?
Can the heat warm my hands?
No. I feel nothing but cold.

The dream is dead.
I never existed.