Agni in the Courtyard

In a quiet courtyard,
where the earth is cool and time moves softly,
four men sit wrapped in white-
like verses of an old prayer.

The fire awakens in the square altar,
a breathing heart of ember and light.
It listens before it speaks,
it remembers before it burns.

Rice rests in small circles,
flowers wait with folded fragrance,
oil lamps tremble like thoughts-
and the night leans closer.

Hands rise, slow and certain,
offering not just grain, but generations.
In the hush, the chant is silent-
yet it echoes through skin and soul.

Smoke lifts like a question to the sky,
curling through the stillness of night,
carrying with it names, faith, and forgotten mornings.

No temple walls hold this ritual-
only the open sky,
only the witnessing fire.

And in that glowing circle,
the past and present sit together,
unbroken,
like a flame that knows no end.

Object number

011.076