White Wisps Of Smoke

The way it unfurls, and forms small clouds of grey, obscuring your vision.

He inhaled the purity of the white wisps of smoke that roamed his aura carelessly.

The soft soul died as it got cleansed by the heavy mist. It died, rose into the sky, and was born again. Thoughts raced past, better than before as the mind lost it itself over the chaos that reigned.

A bedlam of calm.

x EdgyShark x



About edgyshark


Posted on November 15, 2009, in Existence and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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