Cooked by delicate burning
In a bowl, lay, lifeless chunks
Unaware of its life’s purpose
Cling to its family pieces
A brave one then ventures out
To be fed to a thirsty candle
Between a heartless pair of tongs
Tip of which, ironically,
Cold to the wrathful warmth
Its black body imbibe the red
From the fire devouring it
Orange, red, orange-red
Randomly, smiling ruby
Randomly, frowning red
Newborn fire in tummy
Perishes if not fueled
Tongs feed the flame again
A million dust of diamonds
Keep the charcoal burning
Powdered incense now rain on hot coal
Evoking a fragrance none knew
Deeper the red, mightier the dance
Of white smoke that arose
At times sandalwood, sometimes of rose
Skin of the musky fragrance explores
Curves of an empty room
Spicy, sweet, scented molecules
Fondling every object it owns
The black flesh with peeling gray skin
Glows sunnier with a puff of wind
Fulfill existence as intended
And heaves a sigh of red
