Streams of the glen existing in stillness, get up and jam the door - in the body, altering perception, a ganja fire through leaf and bush; the mind and the firelight, or the drums and light in space, tempting me with fantasies: where the ego is, accompany the smoke. I feel the trees unravelling, the sheen and shine behind the night; void soft with fancies; mountain lands and joy. And soon, dark pearl in the soul, abandon restraint and all humility singing; take praise and adoration, law breaker, dope fiend. My bedroom is the composer of the galaxies, an interior universe switched off, candles lit. I am merely now of angels, a pile of ladies, my loins flicked through for ascent.
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