Kneeling low before the shrine,

Slowly rising, sacrament in hand,

Facing the flames, smoke blown

Away in wisps,…to freshness.

Yes,…to an aroma that appeals

To the innermost desires.

Giving in to righteousness,

Sovereign – to the seat of self.

It is this smell of anew,

That seeps unnoticed

On sunbeams in the

Dawning of ones will.

Becoming continually changing,

While growing reluctantly

Through our own evolution

To our perception of free.

ria – circa 2006