Tuesday, December 21, 2010

Smoke, a story of dust

The dust came by for a talk
I invited him and we started

‘Where is smoke?’ Dust asked
I said, ‘I don’t know’
Then dust began his talk
A talk where I was a listener
A listener of dust's story

‘I need a shape and so I need smoke’ dust started
Smoke brings me life
Smoke gives me shape
Smokes adds my beauty

Where is she?
I need her now

For smoke is my soul
She covers me
She floats all over me
She excites me with her tricks

She makes me feel she is mine
Though I know she is not mine

I enjoy her tricks
For she knows how to play
She amuse me with her games
She even makes me dance

When breeze added more steps to the dance
She told me to follow her legs
I followed her with no questions asked

Dancing made her happy
May be she is happy; to see me happy
I need her now
For she knows me
Though from distance
Though not completely

If you see her, can you tell?

Tell her, I was in search,
Search for my soul
Soul belonging to her
Which is not mine

Where is smoke?
Did you see her?

I need her back
Back at least for a moment
 For she has my life
She will bring my soul

Smoke, where are you?
Can you come back for a moment?
A moment at least?

And then may the wind come
And may the wind wash me away
Away with you and me
Where we both vanish?

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