Behind My Eyes

A Dance of Smoke

Crackle, crackle before the spark.
The fire shoots onto the lonely, cold, charcoal covered wood.
The outcome- flames fighting within its self, each turning to another.
Colors collide until you cannot tell weather red, yellow or orange.
The more it think as if it can escape, the more it builds with heat and smoke-
Rising upwards, blown aside as the wind grows stronger against the heat,
only for the flames to go higher once more.
Smoke reigning over the inferno beauty.
Wind still calm, the smoke dances and twirls in the air as the storm forms.
Weaving around in between visible layers, milky against the dark sky.
Waving from one side to another for attention,
as it breaks off and combines again to go straight ahead- creating dark clouds of grey.
The lower half, a billion figures, along side the quickening current,
each one strand thinner than hair- made together to look like a breath after a cigarette.
Somehow at its own pace and harmony still,
as the flames quiet down to the winds now strong cries of pain,
from the burns after the flames have reached its peak.
The carbon still continues to flood the air as the gas dances on,
Only becoming more general after the first tear from the sky.
The smoke becomes softer as the fire weakens to soot rained on by the overgrow storm.
Weaker and weaker, it burned everything within its self not to fade away, but it does.
It slowly fades into the mist with a cry of thunder before the lightning hits.
The storm goes on.
Every 'pitter-patter' washing away the ashes.
Every ounce of debris blow through you.
Let the storm tear you apart.