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I stand outside and pull out my cigarette.
I take a deep breathe before I light up
- and then, I do…
Pausing just a bit to question myself
Do I really want to do this once more?
Like every other time, I do.
I inhale deeply, letting the smoke go all the way inside my lungs…
I forgive myself one more time… again…
like I will the next time, I know.

I look up feeling the misty cool air hit my face and then I see her:
my friend my confidant… my moon.
She does not judge me, she just knows.
She is strong, fighting the cloudy December sky
heavy and wet, full of a promised snow.
But I can see her, my bright moon, looking at me,
without assumptions, resentments or ill will.
She knows me intimately.
She knows me well, my moon.
even my self-deceptions, my dreams and my hopes.
Tonight, I ask her to show me the truth

While exhaling,
I get lost in the effort of deciphering where the smoke ends
and my visible breath begins
I lose sight of my purpose but
her brightness pushes past the fog
and she summons my will again.

I see her as she stares, fighting thru the haze
a grayish bronze glow, almost golden at times.
I look at her searching for answers buried inside of me.
Answers that won't, or can't, or just simply don't come.
A cloud passes and blocks it from my sight
"Tell me the truth." I murmur under my breath. 

I lead the cigarette back up to my lips.
No answers tonight;
just hopeful questions to ponder upon
as I throw my cigarette away, once more.