AlAnoud Writes

A scent drifts 

not through air, but through the unseen.

It finds the pulse beneath stillness,

the soft hum where spirit and skin meet.

I once wore it in a moment without noise,

when the world unfolded like incense smoke 

slow, infinite, forgiving.

Now, when chaos presses close,

the same scent rises,

and the air bends toward peace.

It is not the perfume that calms me,

but the echo it carries 

the memory of a lighter self,

a soul unburdened,

a whisper that says: you’ve been here before.

Every molecule is a prayer in disguise,

every breath a small return

to the quiet place I built inside.

And so I wear it 

not for others to sense,

but for my spirit to remember

the way home.

Because beauty lives in the unseen 

in the still fragrance that follows gratitude,

in the tender knowing

that even a single breath

is touched by the divine …