Another warm campfire..
I lay again on my back and watch the smoke mix in with the fog..
Under dead trees I think of this endless journey I have been on..
The smoke and fog have a beautiful mixture to it..
Like a ghost that does not know he is a ghost..
I sometimes wonder if I am just that..
Maybe I died long ago and just wander this hell..
Not to far off I notice an owl in the dead tree alone..
He or she flies off into the fog..
To them the world is the same..
Nothing has really changed..
I dream that night under the smoke and fog..
I dream that this dead forest is alive again..
The trees are filled with white owls..
They all look to me and fly off..
As they take flight they turn into the fog..
I also see smoke..
Its coming from the piles of people that are dead..
I see myself in the pile on top..