• I am the smoke forgotten by the flame, herded, led, and pushed, up the narrow shaft of the chimeny only to reach the open air to dissapate and vanish.

    It's so odd to think you are nothing, forgotten, only until work must be done. In our own ways we are all made of smoke and we slowly lose ourselves as time passes; because, in some way, each of us has been left alone, freed only to be taken once again by something even greater.