Even the smoke of my lit cigarette
floats up into the sky.
“Voices carry,” is the line of a popular 80s song
that still rings true until now;
yes, even sound makes it way up.
Lies have a habit of sinking
deeper and deeper into the depths
of the ocean of all the things
that are ever uttered aloud
but the truth always makes
its steady drift upwards
onto the surface of the water.
It bobs up and down on the waves
as more and more words
are added into this vast expanse of the sea.
like all things that matter.
We lift things up
or we bring them down
and in that context
we know what we value
and what we don’t.
Water falls as rain
but rises again and again as vapour.
The ashes after a conflagration,
weightless, drifts effortlessly
like our memories do,
coming back, disappearing
with the wind.
And like birds,
we reach out into the heavens
and defy gravity,
aspiring to reach the heavens.
We rise, or are forever striving
to find our place among the stars.