Sitting down, mind in a daze, dulled and lethargic.
Fingers separating the tobacco from its tight entanglement,
Spreading it evenly along the paper,
Easing in the filter,
Creasing the paper and rolling it all into a perfect cylinder,
Licking it, sealing it.
A well practiced, ceremonial event.
Softly placing it to the lips,
Cupping the end with one hand while the other sparks a flame.
First inhale embraces the obscured thoughts,
While the exhale brings questions and theories.
Smoke twists, wafts and rises,
Symbolic of the alleviation of this obscurity.
Inhaling, exhaling, observing the smoke and its shape-shifting,
Altered by different movements of the mouth.
Easy access to meditation.
Nicotine infiltrates the blood stream,
Clarification emerging with every exhale.
Perspective starts being sketched into illumination,
Relief, stimulation, mental clarity and satisfaction.
Snubbing the tool of conclusion into an ashtray,
Feeling much better,
For now.
I concur.
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