Incense

there is illusion said the mystics
the shackles of the carnal senses
leading to cravings and desires
the root of all suffering

reject all pleasures of the senses
become aware of their transitory nature
follow the straight and narrow path to nirvana
eat sensibly
drink reasonably
sleep for the toil of tomorrow that is the middle way

but we embraced in the smoke
rubbed in the smoke
kissed
licked
lived and laughed in the smoke

Burned ignorance in a bonfire
swiftly swirling like smoke
swaying softly beneath the moon
new rites by the rocks
drew blueprints with chalk
seduced and bewitched in the gloom

we pressed bodies and moaned
dug fingers and groaned
fell over the fire
we flew again and flocked
lost reason and thought
in holy fever we burned
entwined fingers and stroked
to reach closer and know
the taste of each other in smoke.