Infinitely

Unbeknownst to you, my dealings are illicit
And every moment we propose to inspire 
We ponder in the vapors rising in the air
Could you see me through the smoke,
Will you breathe in what I have let go? 
Light up, watch the flame, down to the ashes. 

Blow trees in the wind and walk a few lines. 

Read what I write, but read what I haven’t written.
Everything is there if you just look.  

So tell me, have I crossed the line?
Have I lost my sense of morals and direction?
Do I know what I’m doing?

I already know the answers, at least for those questions.

The others will come in time.

What’s up next? 

We smoke illusions, speaking of mindless musings and endless thoughts. The night becomes ours and we linger in the haze a little longer, believing in something real, a bit of the truth to speak to us as we wait. The air turns white, our breaths staining the cold. Or is it those illusions?