The Smokey One

A time will come when you may witness,
The Smokey One.
A woman like war widow with no wasted will.
Full of love or hate nobody knows.
Some say she is beautiful, youthful and sensual.
Holding a cigarette, surrounded by ash and smoke.
Her enticing enigma with certainty,
Promising self-destruction.
There may be a glimmer of hope.
Some say she is hideous, old and frightening.
One who only attracts ravens and whores,
Her elderly wisdom enduring uncertain,
And promising ever more.
But it is natural to fear.
Her husband is nowhere to be seen,
Hence a woman vulnerable and vindictive.
Beyond predictive power,
As half of herself is burnt by her own love.
Tis wise to remember the vapour that kisses The Void.
Even the wisest who witness this Being shudder and shake,
Tis Power and Will turbulently still,
The nature of injustice rests well in her wake.
Pay respects to her as your mother, combust yourself and be pure.
For those who are impure and impudent,
Are dearly introduced by
The Smokey One…
To the cold dead arms of her husband…
Oblivion.