was everything you felt for me
a trick of the light?
some magician’s smoke
fanned to achieve
the appropriate density?
how many parts per million
were enough to make my
eyes water?
was the fire a reflection
in a mirror
without heat,
without the power to consume?
see my ashes for what they are
no trickery here
just crematory soot
bones to grind into flour
Words and Feathers 
OK, wow. That was great.
Thank you so much 😊.
Where there’s smoke, there’s fire, and where there’s fire, there’s ash. It’s in the end, where we can start again. Excellent.
Sometimes the wind just carries it all away. But it’s true. Everything end is some kind of beginning.