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Air here is unhurried, with no intent to please.
It drifts past the edge of the tatami,
light as a feather settling on a shamisen string,
making no sound, yet certain it is a note.
When that note falls,
a paper door in the dream stirs faintly,
and the raked lines in the garden
forget which way they were meant to run.
Backstreets of Kyoto lie empty,
stone paths glossed with traces of water.
Here, time counts for nothing.
Smoke rises, flowers bow—
two lines that will never meet,
each extending in silence.
TOP NOTES: Abutilon, Juniper, Snowdrop
HEART NOTES: Incense, Rose Otto, Himalayan Poppy
BASE NOTES: Indian Sandalwood, Laos Agarwood, Myrrh