The smoke curls
but not as ringlets
as a mountain stream
searching for it's lover;
the river
it dispels and dissipates
without warning
or clapping of hands
no incantation
evenly and solemnly it flows
always away
as a dream upon waking
May 29, 2013
May 29, 2013 at 11:56 AM UTC
The smoke curls
but not as ringlets
as a mountain stream
searching for it's lover;
the river
it dispels and dissipates
without warning
or clapping of hands
no incantation
evenly and solemnly it flows
always away
as a dream upon waking
3:47am. God, let me sleep.
Subjectivity peaks
as we do
anger, love and sorrow
a loss of objectiveness
