When the candle's flame is shivering and the smoke from the incense sticks draw silver-gray spirals into thin air, I try to summon sense and energy.
Leave behind the rough daily events or soft praising words and focus on what's present; on what I have to do.
Forget about the presence of a clock and the sounds with what it places its hands on the numbers..
Who are you, whose voice I can hear in my head and whose vibrating vocal cords I can feel under the thinnest of skins?
You're so real that sometimes it feels like my two feet on the ground have become a floating lock of hair in the sky.
Give me two minutes, please, I need to memorize some social studies to my brain.