Heart Of Cigar Poem by Dorukhan Baris Oguzcan

In realms of shadowed thought and quiet haze,
Where wisdom waits in smoke-filled, winding ways,
A titan stands, not forged of steel or stone,
But leaves of earth, and secrets all his own.

The Cigar, the Sage, a councilor of fire,
Ignites a journey, stoking deep desire
For truth unseen, beyond the noisy fray,
As day's harsh light gives way to evening's grey.

First comes the spark, a sudden, searing birth,
That wakes the spirit of the sleeping earth.
A fragile flame that finds its patient hold,
And tales of time and distant lands unfold.

The first slow draw, a taste of rich domain,
Of sun-drenched fields and life-sustaining rain.
A memory of soil, of sweat, of toil,
The humble grandeur of a fertile spoil.

It burns with purpose, measured, slow, and grand,
A silent promise held within the hand.
A pillar rising, fragile, yet so bold,
A whispered legend, stories to be told.

The smoke, a canvas, where the mind can stray,
And paint its thoughts in shades of light and grey.
A curling question, fading, then renewed,
A silent language, perfectly construed.

It offers stillness in a world of haste,
A quiet moment where no truth is misplaced.
It speaks of patience, of the long slow burn,
And lessons that the rushing soul must learn.

For in its heart, a fragile, ember-glow,
It holds the answers that we long to know.
The past is ash, the present's fleeting heat,
The future's promise, bittersweet and sweet.

So let it burn, and let the visions rise,
Before the patient, understanding eyes.
The Cigar, the Sage, a master of its art,
That lights the mind and guides the searching heart.