Easy-peasy

Wind comes, I sway. Rain falls, I dissolve. Through the blooms, around the woods, everything reflects its shape.

Earth transforms in the kiln. Smoke drifts lazily through the cracks. It exhales the final breath of change, then gladly dips out, running to the unknown.

Next time we cross paths, maybe it's the glow of a dying fire, the warmth rising from the roof, or the echo of fading sparks.Free spirits need to zone out sometimes.

Easy-peasy. Let it drift, and drift with it. Smoke knows the way.