Confessions of an enamored serpent

The smoke silting from nag champa incense reveals an underlying knowledge that is incomprehensible. White layers of rippling flesh, rolling, tumbling, soaring through the air... it understands the flow of the universe. Naturally, I assess it also understands the nature of love. The scented smoke conforms to my interfering hand, sliding over my hot skin in delirious coils of orchestra-worthy performance. It pulls and stretches through the air like fine threads of spider's silk, bending and bowing with the guidance of invisible spirits given body by the rhythmic and sensitive motion of the burning incense. Like my heart and my wandering mind, it dissipates into the atmosphere... distancing itself from everything but the orange ember at the tip, which in one simple gesture is smitten by my tender fingertip.