Eyelids rest to the sharp vision of my eyes
You are there
dressed in a black that turns purple
DMT flows freely
The firebird passes by
A cloud of fine ashes surrounds us both
you vanish leaving a floating tear (sad cheshire-cat’s grin)
She falls down a never-ending spiral
–it curves in all directions
Down and up she falls
until she finds a fifth dimension
Stravinsky slows down the music
The spiral is flat now
it expands like soft sand in a desert
Where’s the mirror?
She faints under the roof of a majestic tent
with floating curtains and dry fruit
She is not hungry, she is not thirsty
She just wants to disappear in a long silent dream
Blackbird wings cover her eyes
Soft music surrounds her shadow
She sheds warm tears and a handful of emptiness
Until the firebird comes back
burns the tent
111 moments
She opens her eyes to a roofless sky
Silver clouds melt into a mirror
She reflects few changes and the idea of a smile
You are not you anymore
You are a rare feeling of harmony
So easy to be with
so normal yet unknown
The questions are there
Soft silence in delicate smiles
Limits bounded by known baggage
Ambivalent times
Metamorphosis
Fire!
_____Adriana Citlali
XXX-VII-MMXIV
Anthony Desmond invites us to take a psychedelic trip today at dVerse: Poetics on DMT. I took mine with a doses of The Firebird by Stravinsky:
When space is silence... 