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The Shape of the Smoke




Change would eventually steal everyone from you anyway.
But they'd still be. Out there. Becoming.
Lost to you, yes, but not annihilated.

Conservation of energy is not enough.
Conservation of identity.
But illusions exist only in their effect.
Time is the wind (blowing, blowing)
that disrupts, dissipates the apparent shape
of the smoke.

But what was burning?

All poems are written and copyrighted by Michael C. Rush.
None may be republished or repurposed without permission.