Written by: Wm Paul

As light comes through the window
And I think who's near me,
Not just those with whom I flow,
But them I now rarely see.

The incense makes a tendinous creature
That's invited in as teacher,
And with a fragrance for the senses tone
It opens up a place unknown.

A guide appears upon the inside,
Stocked with memories full from ages
Off we go on paths tried,
But not by these few pages, 
For still they stand
Waiting call,
Passing on hand in hand,
Causing not much stall.

For soon comes words off somewhere else
To blend with those from in,
Expanding on the new found self
To enhance the findin',
Meanings fold-over and lap
To give difference a view,
Then the chance becomes, may-hap,
One or more than two.