The Smoke and the Flame

The smoke 💨 from the incense swayed softly as if it was just waking up from its slumber. The gait was a bit unsteady and the head a bit light. Shall I lie down for a bit or get up, it continued to ponder as it oscillated on its feet. Gently after a bit of persuasion it was able to hold its head higher and higher. 

I light the lamp 🪔 next and the smoke from the incense stick hits the burning flame. The smoke twirls, tip toes, blows doughnuts, doubles up, fans out, pleats itself as it teases and flirts with the flickering light. They dance a merry dance with each twist and turn. Gentle as two ballet dancers 💃 on their toes and at times it turns into a quickstep, a tango or a Charleston as the energy builds up a notch or two. There is no orchestra, just the stillness of the night. The incense has no scent, it doesn’t need any. There is no play of colours, just grey smoke and an orange flame 🔥 . A simple yet mesmerising encounter.

I stand transfixed. And then a noise, a movement, something wakes me up from my hypnotic state. I put out the lamp, it is time to leave. The incense is still burning, but now it looks subdued as if the twinkle ✨ has gone out of its eyes and the rhythm from its feet. Never mind I say, we will do it all again tomorrow, same time, same place. 

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