How It's Going To Be [Poetry]

smoke choke

smoke choke

nov7twenty21

all you ever see is the smoke.
it engulfs you; invades your nostrils, your ears, your mouth.
tasting of ash and a sense of soon decay.
nature's wispy breath of change.
her sounding sonata.
you offer that those bonfires are just glorified destruction,
the monsters that fell the trees and scorched the plains,
but our gods pay no mind. you know this even still.
and yet it is still held so sacred.
the winding scent of an incense stick,
the candles and the pentacle.
ritual and binding.
she wills your indifference - perhaps your piety - but the fumes
get lodged in your throat before you can say grace.
the smoke is all there is.
it traps you; stiffens your limbs, draws up your defenses.
indeed, what a pity. to never feel the fire's warmth.
to never feel her caressing glow.
for in death lies renewal, revival, life despite decay.
to choke on fumes is futile.