psychedelics

I rise, yet my steps drift in spectral grace, Walking paths where distance bends and sways. A column calls—a solid promise, Yet my hand meets only air's silent abyss.
The water bottle nears, a sip unfulfilled, Liquid lost in the veil of the unreal. Am I moving, or merely dreaming of motion? Am I thought, untethered from action?
Space unspools, its threads rewoven— Time, a river with no fixed course. I exist in echoes, in ripples of dimensions, Simultaneous, eternal, unseen.
I wander through trees where colors hum, Luminous currents flow through leaf and wood. Life streams in every possible direction, A chorus of hues, a living pulse.
Microscopic gaze, I am drawn within— A traveler through the leaf’s green lung. I see the insects' tiny pilgrimage, The water's dance, the breath of the young.
Reality softens, melts like mist, Time, a spiral with no graspable end. I am the eye, the breath, the dew, The mystery within the rain.

[poem from my first Ayahuasca ceremony]