White Sage

the wind is

the feeling the

incarnation of

the soul

of the place

waiting until

summoned to appear

where you are

in meditation

blowing

scattering

dispersing

the fog

of white

sage passing

over your body

with its

cleaving blue demons

and diabolic

curling

gray fingers

and pewter

parabolic

devils

until perhaps

tomorrow

or the

day

after