The smell of incense filled my nose,
And a top a pile of bones was a rose.
The petals were just beginning to wither
Yet there was not a sign of dither.

Candles are lit on either side of me;
Stones are scattered as far as I can see.
My pendulum starts to swing,
a steady rhythm on a lonely string.

All while the moon sits proud
Upon its very own throne of clouds.
The tree reached toward her with no avail,
Leaving behind a shadowed veil.

Whispers falll past chapped lips,
Hush and quick as a lunac eclipse.
My mind would soon begin to seperate,
And I would start to forget my mental weight.

As the spiral begins,
We all swim with damaged fins.
My reality begins to blend,
My third eye taking me to ascend.