Under the moonlight, the cat’s shadow flickers, life is but a dream, not knowing this night from another.
Sitting alone with the shadow, the device turns the smoke, the mind calms with the mist, speaking softly to oneself.
The soul follows the smoke, sometimes dwelling on this shore, sometimes crossing to the other, when the dream returns, the shadow remains though the name has changed.
Walking without trace, coming without sound, only the moon and the smoke know its path.
Is it the other shore or this very night? The name has changed, the heart remains, smiling at the folly of a dream.