I look.
I look at the streak.
I look at the thin white streak.
The thin, long, ethereal white streak. Dissolving away into the air.
Dissolving away as if it is totally irrelevant and unnecessary on this planet.
Dissolving away, but not without a fight. A struggle.
A struggle for existence.
A fight for sustaining its integrity.
A fight to stay intact but overpowered by the merciless forces of nature.

But this struggle isn’t just for its own existence. It’s not dying alone. It’s not being buried six-feet under empty-handed. It’s taking something with it.
Something which isn’t its own.
Something which it never desired but has been destined to take with it. It’s been given to it voluntarily by the other entity without any hesitation. Even though the object’s precious, one of a kind, they don’t have any inhibitions of giving it away. And it is gladly accepted…..

Coming back to the streak of white vapor. Staring at the point where the evenness is disturbed and is minced into zillions of arbitly aimed tributaries. I tend to trace back.
I trace back the path of the vapor. To the source.
To the beginning.
To the start……

But the start is in fact the end of something else. I watch the ghostly white fumes coming out of a tip.
A red tip.
A red-hot burning tip. I look closely.
I look closely at the red edge. How it’s making its way. In a wavy manner.
In an arbit way.
No direction. But generally heading towards a pre-destined point. Burning the path it treads on. Leaving a residue. A residue which even after the gruesome procedure, tries to stay together.
Tries to hang on. But is disrupted.
Disrupted by the force, created and sometimes stronger than the nature.
Their bonds are broken.
Their links clipped. They fall down.
They fall down into the deep abyss. They try to hold on even when they fall.
They try to at least fall down in peace. But things never go as they are planned or expect to happen.
They’re blown by the wind into nothing…..nothing…..nothing……