The smoke that travelled here from far away,
hides, confuses, misinterprets words I say.
Smoke that seems to turn the world around me grey, wants to be here to stay.
The brightness of the rising sun,
seems pale and faded.
Yet I know it’s just the smoke that’s permeated,
and has the blueness of the sky,
hostage, captive, hypnotised,
but it can be just for a little while, cause the power of the sun is never-ending.
The smoke that’s travelling the stratosphere,
seems to be trying to reach a distant home.
It’s destiny is to be soon reabsorbed,
Because we don’t need smoke’s disguise, we need our clarity and brilliant sun.
C.2021, Francis Bravo Cabrera, 03 AUG 2021, Turkey