Smoke rises. The burned remnants and a reminder of something fierce. Some lingers with a sweet aroma, and others burn your lungs with an acrid stench. But all of them are the lasting hint of extinguished flame.
A life burns and glows in fiery form, consuming it’s surroundings. It returns that gift with action, light and heat. We can burn down our surroundings, destroying bridges and walls until there is nothing left. There is remembrance in that.
Or we can consume only what we need while providing warmth to the cold. We can glow sweetly in an ochre hue, providing light and illumination to the ones who are in the dark. There is remembrance in that as well.
But it all must end and we linger in smoke. Faint hints on the breeze of a life burned out, or an acrid choke in the lungs left in our wake. Our ghosts are the hazy remnants of our lives and they linger in the rafters and in the low hanging pasts of those still meandering the earthly plane.
You are what you consume, and you will be remembered as incense or fume. Burn your life well.