Stealth

Image by Patryk Sobczak

Thud thud 

I could hear my tread

I woke up amidst the crowd of sleeping selves 

The night had a hussle but my mind was quiet

I was strolling in the middle of a queer sight 

There was white smoke escaping the lips 

That burnt a cigarette of their own flesh 

And children playful and vulnerable 

Hopping and splashing dirt unto the earth dweller

Eyes making merry, seeking out daylight 

Blindly in the moonlight 

I saw blazing flames rising to the sky

I stepped closer and watched the logs vanishing 

The next morning I returned to see what remains

There was but ashes; of logs and souls