there's some kind of magic in smoke

It's a somber day, dark and gray. I did a few line drawings, and laid on my bed watching the smoke of incense in my bathroom climb up the walls in a secretive dance. I don't feel empty or sad like I thought I would. I just feel okay, I think the music makes me feel so bleh, just makes me think of the bigger things, life and death and what it's for. watching the white transparency float and create a figure of some other world. thinking of people that have come and gone. those before me and after me. is it like the smoke? floating up into the sky, reeling with the air, whirling up and becoming one...i want to end up like that, endlessly floating, and gathering more and more particles...connecting to an eternal piece.