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
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