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.
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