He chose his mountain perch for its commanding view and its swirling eddies of swift wind. Beams of golden sunlight shift through roiling gray clouds. The folds of his plain robe sway and occasionally whip around his ankles. Various pouches lie in rows near to hand.
A deep-sided charcoal brazier rests on the ground at his right side. The rows of supplies sit to his left. His eyes watch the play of morning light battling what may soon be storm clouds. A faint trace of a smile plays over his lips as he gracefully lowers himself into a comfortable kneeling position. The wind gusts up over the ridge and swirls around him.
His eyes close for a moment as he savors the caress of the moisture laden air over his face. His hair lifts and drops around his neck and ears. The brief meditation completed, the man's hands lift from his lap and hover over the brazier. A flash of light and the charcoal ignites. The smoke coils up and is grabbed by the moving air. The wind shifts in now spinning in place on the other side of the blazing charcoal.
He smiles again and then shifts so that he faces the swirl of smoke. The charcoal quickly heats and the smoke fades. Before the last trace dissipates, the kneeling man begins to whistle a haunting melody. His hand reaches behind him and lifts a pouch. Still whistling, he removes a pinch of cedar and drops it to the embers. The sweet scent rises and then is taken in the whirling air.
Sage follows the cedar, then lavender. Next rose petals, then rosemary. Onto sandalwood and copal, then to amber. All the while, the clouds collide and tumble. The sun's light fades to twilight. Each ingredient's smoke and scent builds on the next. The whistled tune changes with each addition to the coals. With each change of sound and scent, the smoke filled air changes form.
The whirling air has begun to change as it draws more scented smoke into its center. A spinning column coalesces from the fragrant haze. With each note of the whistled song, the column changes. Soon a human figure is visible. The air movement slows, showing the effect of smoke and sound combined.
A nude male figure has spun into being. The robed man watches with pleasure as his ideal takes shape before him. The tune ends and the living man rises to his feet smoothly. The still moving air draws in the last of the sacred smoke. The ideal is now fully formed, complete in every detail, save one. The robed man plucks a single hair from his scalp and lowers it carefully to the dying embers in the brazier. It flashes and is gone. The thinnest trace of vapor lifts. It is taken by the wind and pulled into the still form at its center.
Gray eyes open and the nude chest begins to rise and fall. The smoke seems solid now, a pale body with silver- gold hair in the appropriate places. The air circling has faded to the merest breath yet continues still.
A pale hand stretches out toward its maker as the arm lifts it. It beckons the robed man closer. The robed man is dazzled by the physical embodiment of his ideal. He never thought to see him anywhere but within his mind's eye. He steps around the brazier and reaches out with his own hand.
Gray eyes and brown lock. Volumes are spoken in that brief eternity. Brown eyes mist with unshed tears. Two hands touch, gently tenderly. The robed man's breath catches in his chest as the nude man pulls him closer. The robed man's hand is placed on the naked chest. He feels a single heart beat before disaster. His body blocked the air flowing around the other. As the air did out, the nude man's form simply fell apart.
A tear slides down the robed man's cheek as he stares down at the tiny pile of ash at his feet. A faint trace of the same ash covers his hand. As he watches, the on-coming storm breaks over the mountain crest.
Lightning flashes and thunder cracks as a fierce wind sweeps the ridge. The ash is lifted and scatters, gone forever. His ideal is now no more than dust on the wind and a memory in his heart. He imagines that single heart beat beneath his fingers and smiles. It was an ideal worth working for.