Smoke

Smoke.
I dreamt of 3 gray pillars.
And I was the fire.
They each took their turns.
Inflamed, engulfed I was.
Each one just as I remembered.
Still each was different to me.
These gray ghosts haunt me.
How long will I smell of smoke?
How long will I lay on this bed of burning cinders?
Constantly burning I am.
And no one can extinguish me.
My existence is meant to release heat.
I am forever meant to burn.