Smoky Question

A smoky question mark appears on the hill
a white fluffy, benign shape asking
eyes stare at it, mind as blank as the smoke
Nothing formulates
no requests,
no thought,
no wish.

Facing the unexpected, there is only wonder
as when a shooting star crosses a patch of sky
The inquiry
are absent.
The apparition leaves before the eyes
Can summon a guessing mind…

What was that interrogation
a hazy veil
soon translucent
stopped in its rise
then dismissed
reduced to nothing in a blink?

Is that what you mean my soul
when you say nothing is real?
because all ends without a trace?
like smoke
meteor showers
the scent of roses
and love? …

Row your boat
Life is but a dream…


About emmylgant

Cloud watcher and dreamer sometimes wise, often foolish, but I am what I am.
This entry was posted in Life, Pandora's box, Poetry, Question and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

12 Responses to Smoky Question

  1. Suzanne Richmond says:

    Nicely done! I like the visible patterns in the prose.


  2. Randstein says:

    I think I have grown accustom to rowing and dreaming at the same time while all the rest of life descends into and out of the fog. I rarely notice anymore. I loved this one. It spoke to me.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Ah, Emmy, nothing is real…
    Misunderstanding all you see…
    Smoke, mirrors, roses and dreams.
    What more can you – or the cloud – ask for?

    Liked by 1 person

  4. PapaBear says:

    All of the others may not be real, Emm, but never love.


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