I split the leaf with reverent care,

Fingers tracing the fragrant air.

The bud, a treasure, dense and bright,

Crumbles like gold in the soft moonlight.

I grind the world to finer things,

The worries fade, my spirit sings.

White Owl stretched, a sacred scroll,

I fill its heart to make me whole.

Herb laid like whispers from the earth,

A cosmic gift, a second birth.

I tuck, I roll, a gentle art,

Binding the heavens to my heart.

A lick, a spark — the flame takes flight,

Igniting dreams beneath the night.

I draw it in, the smoke, a breeze,

Unfolding galaxies with ease.

Each exhale peels away the day,

My thoughts dissolve, then drift away.

I float through realms no eyes can see,

A higher place that welcomes me.

The stars lean close to hum and glow,

The universe begins to slow.

Time unravels, loose and long,

My soul a vessel, filled with song.

The earth hums low beneath my feet,

A rhythm vast and bittersweet.

I ride the waves of endless skies,

A poet lost, yet realized.

With every puff, my spirit soars,

Unlocking all of heaven’s doors.

I linger there, where I belong,

A fleeting moment, stretched and strong.

The White Owl burns, a fading gleam,

But I remain — a living dream.