The perfume

A plump bottle stood on the shelf
Filled with coloured mist
It gleamed in the dark in vain
For that could have been the feeling of being trapped in pain
The bottle was ornate with shimmering glass
Diamonds on its neck surely was class
The cork remained tightly shut
For the fear of the mist mixing with the air
What diffusion are we trying to thwart 
The liquid will rise there to its heart



Day after day I noticed the forlorn flagon
The droplets dejected
Confined to the shackles of the glass walls
They continued to peer at the world outside
Paradigm positioned itself on the rim
The pitcher of perfume
Polished and prim,
What was the purpose of existence I wondered,
If your fragrance could not diffuse with the air
With one sharp shove, the bottle came crashing with a loud thud
The music of melancholy was cast aside
The fluid spread on the ground
One last time, the soil soaked it up
The air whose true calling was free from fetters
Jumped to diffuse with the molecules of perfume
Once blended, the air was aromatic
The shards shimmered in the gentle sunshine
Are we going to demarcate air from the aroma
Or bask in the bouquet of being
That whiff of air answers it all