I looked at the world through smoke smeared eyes this morning.
A fire had burned furiously in me during the night.
Twice I had reached out to you across the thousand miles.
The voice on the end of the line said you had gone.
Distance made me helpless.
The miles were a locked door between us.
Could I love you so much,
And it seemed, you me,
Yet you have gone?
The future crumbles away.
The present is full of flames burning inside.
The past, once a meadow of growing flowers,
Now holds the dead weeds of question marks.
A terrible story unfolds,
Full of deceit and hidden purposes.
Such stories are written
By the struggle to understand.
But what can I believe,
When I look at the world
Through smoke smeared eyes?

Copyright ©2001 Tony Crisp