Where there is Smoke,
there is Ash.
Today's clouds fold into themselves,
like a giant sky envelope
and the Sun is a first class postage stamp.
Memories have run dry.
They have had their fill.
A blank mind-erases everything,
but the present moment-
this pen-
this paper-
these words
I scratch together.
Someday
Some other time and place-
these words maybe considered poetic or
even poetry.
But that future, is still so far away-
I cannot grasp it.
For this moment,
I reach out for the most perfect
single word
and nothing more,
or nothing less,
than silence is heard.
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