The Smoke Rises

In a quiet sunlit room free from the world without the things that fills other rooms A bare wood floor white walls without pictures nor windows nothing to think upon I enter in close the door drop the world open my mind I carry with me a stick of incense a stand to hold a match to begin I sit on the floor cross my legs calm my breathing prepare to start Set down the stand place the stick within strike the match light a flame the incense burns the fire bright then it flitter flame no more I put down the match lean back and breath deep rest my hands on my knees grow quiet and watch Smoke begin to rise wavering and scattered disquieted by moving air set moving by my movement Smoke slowly quiets moving straighter into air up to the ceiling making a small cloud The rising smoke shows my every move each breath perhaps even thought I seek to see no movement no scattering no change Just smoke rising up and up without change without moving