Thursday, October 07, 2010

Incensed mornings

Spirals waft in my wake, weakening into wisps as I turn away or walk very fast.

The fragrance remains, locked in spaces I choose to enclose. But soon, it escapes into ether, becoming nothing but a faint recollection of a fragrance that once was, clinging only to the folds of clothes unused for long, papers untouched, books unread.

Strong, the smell-strands of lemon grass tickle my nostrils, refreshing the stale air in a room locked for the night. Lavender speaks of flowers from far, reduced to a few moments of magic, meant to soothe and calm, Sandalwood is a prayer, even in the hands of an atheist.

The scented air of freshly-bathed mornings, a scramble to get to work, the last moments of peace before the emails begin.

The stick burns down. It's soul of smoke spins up and away. And the remains of the morning lie on the floor, a pattern of ashes to be swept away.

Till tomorrow.


Diligent Candy said...

this reads so beautifully like a poem.
one of your best so far!

Anonymous said...

Brilliant presentation indeed !


Thinking Cramps said...

Candy: Thanks Smurf!

Anonymous: Thank you :) Do drop by more often and leave these comments!

OrangeJammies said...

Lovely! Suggestion: get one of those jaliwala incense boxes that left the smoke drift out while keeping the ash in. Less to clean up after. :0) My Dad has one, so let me know if I can get you one too.