Up In Smoke

As it mingles within and by virtue of substance relates to the air by the depth of its dance; the smoke is persuaded to somehow pursue the course of the breezes developed by chance. On a journey through space, up a thread-bare stare, encountering nothing by way of resistance; the smoke gently glides on its presupposed mission with nothing to measure the time but the distance. Continually merging itself to its doom the smoke on its partner relies and the air borne of power does slowly consume til the last of the smoke calmly dies. And as I relate to the passage of time and the dreams that I sloppily wear; I see in myself, and my journey with life, less smoke with each year and more air.