Old Smoke

By Cliff Lake

 

Old Smoke

 

In the Lands of Lost Promise,

The smokes of old fires linger.

Bright glow now mostly ash,

Blown and gone,

Murmur of despair following.

Fading light delivers indistinct shadow,

Blurred vestiges of boundaries once known,

All but forgotten

In the encroaching cold and dark.

Once tended radiant blazes,

Revered for their warmth and illume,

Burned hot at need,

If heart grew cold,

If mind went dark.

The pyres were blamed of searing too torrid,

Of lighting too clear,

Beacons leading away from glooms and fogs,

Where shadows conceal,

Where deed may go unfound.

In the Land of Lost Promise,

Old smokes linger,

Remnants of fires past,

Embers cooling under ash,

But yet hot,

Awaiting staple and stock,

And the winds of change,

To roar back to blazing life,

And light our course

Out of the dim we stumble in,

And rekindle the spirit that was,

In the Land of Lost Promise,

That we may find the way again.

 

Cliff Lake 4/6/2025

Copyright © Clifford Lake 2025

Location: Wichita, KS, USA

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