Incense, Gums & Resins
A gentle column of frankincense is rising:
Transparently shimmering like crystal,
Airy blue like the distant horizon,
Vibrating like a note played on a violin.
A gentle veil descends from the dark ceiling,
Into the quiet space:
Toning the warm glow of the candle,
Cooling the glowing colour of the flowers,
Shrouding the golden head of the Buddha
In the distance.
But three monks sitting, immersed in thought,
In the late hour stillness of the room:
They never see the splendour of the flowers,
They do not hear the crackle of the candle’s flame,
No more can they feel the beat of the heart.
Buddha’s golden countenance itself
Is erased from their soul:
They only see the column of frankincense,
They only see the crystal like clarity,
They only hear the vibrating sound,
Imagining the faraway horizon.Lama Anagarika Govinda
, Sterling Publishing.