Fire is whispering a secret in smoke's ear.
This aloeswood loves me
because I help it live out its purpose.
With me it becomes fragrance,
and then disappears altogether.
The knots untie and open into absence,
as you do with me, my friend.
Eaten by flame, and smoked out into the sky.
This is most fortunate.
What's unlucky is not to change and disappear.
This way leads through humiliation and contempt.
