Two Smokers

Under a starry night,

Down the old deserted road,

In the ruins of a tavern,

Two smokers smoked.

 

While soft paper edges burned,

Souls were set free,

Of the mind’s worries

There was not even one to feel.

Eyes were awake,

Thoughts had slept,

Memory had returned,

Heart had wept.

 

To one, asks another,

“Why do you still come here?

It’s gotten old, it’s all broken;

Got yourself no place elsewhere?”

 

Follows a voice with soaring fumes,

“In the brokenness,

Of this place,

There is a solace.

Yesterday, I bought a mirror,

It broke today.

In the cracks of it,

I saw myself. Broken.

Into distinct shapes.

So here I rest, in brokenness,

Homely brokenness.”

 

“Oh, boy” smirked the listener,

“You must be high,

Don’t let this smoke get you,

Like it has got me.

It got all of me.

Once I was a spirit,

Full of life, high on smoke.

But then, I became full of ash,

Low on life, in and out,

And I thought who am I,

To question God’s great plan,

So I let this smoke,

Consume me.”

 

Cough, cough, cough,

Coughingly, both laughed,

Making sense of each other.

So, they stopped talking.

And tried floating on the air.

Just like an overhead cloud of smoke.

“Ya know man”, broke the silence,

The broken fellow.

“Everything that’s in pieces today,

Will be used to build tomorrow.

Ya know, build buildings,

build cars, build people.

‘Cause, nothing’s wasted.

It’s just time and place,

One always searches the other,

And when they meet,

Things get themselves all right.”

 

“Sure do, young fella”

Spoke the lowly spirit,

“Ask a man, who doesn’t know,

All the things you said.

Sure do things fix ’em up.

You see those stars?

They were a bunch of crap too.

At a time.

And see ’em now.

They rule the mighty skies.

So, yeah. You got the truth.”

 

Both laughed and passed out.

So did the night.

So did the smoke.

And so did the inner fight.

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