The Smoke Says Its Name

There’s a humming above the rain Evil sinners plot against the land, Fly buzzing ghouls, adrift the spirit But above all, I remain a man. Alas the wind had died So small beneath the mast, Alack, to the devil must go Sundry memories that pass. So brilliant beneath the dreamscape, Quaking stares above the fire. Be watchful; the vision's going Smoking ruin inside the pyre. Shift to intangible, across the water Without a backward glance; Shimmering pinpoints in the distance, That hollowed, ghostly dance.