Rings of smoke, Buddha, burning by
my side. He's waiting
so am I

Both melting to the etha; waxen
tales, smoke and stream
guide to the floor
the ceiling, and scream

Melting to whom, of whom dare
we speak. Droplets shadow
my dress, on my
skin, that is cream
for life

My tears are dry, the candle
that churns, the light
that is offered, and
smells as it burns
No ash

To purify, to cleanse my woes
My dreams they cascade, my heart
still beating, not separate
from you