DMT

A poem about opening doorways to the cosmic mind

Photo by Bagus Hernawan on Unsplash

The world grows quiet.
Unhinged.
Doorways flying open,
some never meant to be,
unlocked by the keys
of men, dust, and trees.

There goes the wall
into fractal blooms.
This is what berths the finite,
the space between our lips,
spoken with vibration
between the nose and the air
between the breath and the inhale.
This is god singing her
five-dimensional song
as the ants on a wire
travel on.

Color vortices as mirrors
to sentient absurdity
spoken of memory yet remembered.
Recall when we sat under the willow
and listened to the warblers sing
undulating flight into the timeless
realm without true light.

The tunnel has taken us,
diverging pathways between
life and death, love and hope —
for this is the world
before my birth,
a place of strangers
in a…