i.

i used to believe i could write

now i know i can't

i scribble notes of nonsense

to make sense of insanity

i scribble as the smoke rises

stand on the path bearing miasma

to be torched or scorched

by the streaming heat

recording feelings that life encodes

through steam and flashes

that are revealing some truth

here or there, meaning arises

some nugget shines, attracting attention

an invitation to enter the water

pan a treasure, silently, in hope

ii.

never break your pen

this would be death, against life

Fire dwells therein