"Every generation is lost in something,"

And mine was lost in thought. The conversation was dying with the flames but our minds were rising with the smoke. I watched the last wisps climb, climb, climb until the infinite night sky became too much to conquer. Undaunted, our physical forms decided not to graffiti their short lived proximity with exhausted jokes and priceless memories. For those few moments, seconds, maybe even minutes I watched as eyes wandered towards the stars, no doubt following the conscious, urging it upward.

Much like the woodsmoke, soon it would dissipate and our thoughts would turn to wordly matters. We would once more attempt to coax our own personal icebergs above the low water mark. The silence was comfortable, however, and I still wonder where we all went for that stitch in time. Who among us travelled to another continent, surely the allure of an instant spent with a brother in arms overseas was too much of a temptation. Who looked to the future? Were any of us able to navigate the path covered in a fog clouded with dreams and find truth? I cherished our time together, and finding the warmth that those thoughts carried I tried to touch those less fortunate. I hope my thread of smoke was enough. I was encouraged by the feeling that I wasn't alone, in body and spirit. We are often of the same mind, and again I can only wonder how often we haven't been able to sit around a table and still keep each other company by weaving a blanket of thought.

One by one we step away from the loom, shift our weight, and whet our lips. Time is much shorter when your hand is around a bottle. Let's talk while we can, keep your journeys deep inside. Who knows, soon you'll see us living up to the title of the website, and it won't be long before the smoke is blowing to another corner of the globe. Just keep in mind that if our feet are on top of different dirt, our heads are in the same sky.

The love is heavy, watch how it arches my breast.