Smoke, gracefullly dancin with the air of blue
wanna have a body
am i happy?
at one point the thick white smoke
dancin proudly with the air.
In a few blinks of my eye,
the prestige whiteness
of the smoke which seems
to be representing my idiosyncrasies;
flexible, graceful, fluid, stranger to form vanishes
as it goes farther and farther every second until
the air devours it mercilessly.
I am suddenly thinking of home.
people say that there is no smoke unless there is fire.
I see children with their potent bodies laughing
and playing around clearly not thinking of what perils
might be faced by them.
Could i still last another day?
Could i even have a body of my own?
Could I play and smile genuinely without
having to worry that my next blink would be my last?
I want to have my anatomy through which
I can walk, talk and savor the prestige
and the strength of the white smoke which i hope
will be preserved as how it was in the
understanding memories of those who
chose to enjoy it.
In fire I exist.