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The holy smoke rises
high up in the air,
for it seeks to convey something to
the Invisible power above.

My eyes start burning
with the fumes of all that is
thrown in the ornate hearth.
The fire turns furiously red

as if the spirit in it seeks

to transcend to the other side.

I follow the smoke

that is now coming out of my mouth,

with the similar aim of communion

of the self and the sacred.

The sky turns dark

as more smoke seeps into my lungs;

the fire slowly turning dead.

And the barren earth cries

with all its grass dry,

from heat and smoke,

and all the uprooting,

that supplement the business

of Faith and transcendence

for the holy power, 
deceiving.  

Afterthought

                                                                                                                                                                   
In the end

as the night passes me by, 

after all tangible interactions

when the sky is blinded, almost with a 

sullen emotion impressed on it, I get out

of my cocooned bed to the world of the Wild

where the stars become my blanket, and the smoke

my intoxicating perfume, and I pull my head back to let 

the sleep like reverie take hold of my consciousness,

that lets my life unroll, while I wait for the art of psychedelia 

to show me the reflection of what I seek; just like you wait for me 

to unravel this burlesque, but in that moment how everything succumbs 

to the one entity- becomes Entirety- like the flames consuming all that is surrounding

And all I see is my fragmented self in the directionless movement of the wind,

its pieces all dancing along in different directions, like siblings

separated at birth; and before I reclaim every piece

my fingers start burning, the reverie breaks,

I bid the insects a good night and

return to my cocoon, leaving

yet something else in

the wilderness.