Pavus

A Night in the desert, under the Constellation Pavo, "The Peacock".

Switch off the world for a moment. The desert holds the day’s last warmth; the dunes breathe velvet.

Above, the Peacock Constellation kindles the sky with eyes of light. A slow wind lifts fine gold. The air shifts: a thread of Incense rises, straight as an arrow, guiding you to a sand-hewn altar. PAVUS appears. Oud kindles like banked embers; Amber unfurls a caress that lingers.

You bring the flacon close: a gesture, a rite. You spray. The perfume recognizes you and carves your presence into the night’s chiaroscuro. You do not wear a fragrance; you wear a fate.

Silence becomes expectancy. Incense speaks of temples; Oud opens secret doors; Amber keeps what is worthy of memory. You understand the absolute is not elsewhere, it settles upon your skin. You raise your eyes: the Peacock’s stars burn like ancient gems. You move, and the sillage goes before you by a step, regal mantle, quiet power.

 Tonight, you will be remembered.