Essence of Sandalwood

As I contemplate

What I am about to write,

I stop to notice

The curling smoke

Of the incense

Just lit.

In its every movement,

There is grace,

As if touched

By a whispered breeze

From most gentle

And elegant lips.

These caresses

Leave elastic reflections

And supple images,

In arching tumbles,

Plaintiff stretches,

And humble bends.

Divine Yoga!

Unleashed.

Whose formulas,

Freed from regimen,

Cannot be known.

And in the lapse

Of an inquiring moment,

The beauty is already done.