Poem? Poem.

Smoke.

These wisps of smoke

they rise above

imposing on

Reality

A spot of ash

upon my shoe

resting with

Finality

A man of thoughts

and views and books

and things of little

Vanity

Lies awake

but sleeping still

absorbed in all his 

Fallacies

A beam of light

comes into view

the sun above

it plays a game

Of hide and seek

within the clouds

until they part

and make it rain

And everything
is washed away
with little noise
and pretty show

And wisps of smoke 

that rose above

come gently floating
down below

Gently floating down below...