The smoke has been rising
I thought it was just a passing smoke
I don’t know — a cigarette smoke?
Yes, but then it fumed stronger, blacker
Rising above the surface
It poked its head out
And that was when I knew
There was a seed of amber I had discarded
And it spread, grew, molding itself into
A forceful blow.
I am tired.
I sometimes crave this cigarette I quit long ago
Just to sit back, stare at this mountainous force roaring at me
And relax for the first time in a long time
To face the music that I had been meant to face.
10.19.2026
