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And now—a slightly different note—
We'd love to hear you share
From belly (deeper?), heart, and throat:
The what, the why, the where
Of one experience from your past
That you consider now
The most profound. (Do try. We ask
Your care, and give our vow
To keep it with our silence.)
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The what, I'll share, and, too, the where.
The why, I fear, I can't, I swear.
Seeing my love, A—, fair.
Another's wedding 'twas, in mid-spring air
The experience, one, is most profound—
But why? Words fail. I'm dumbfound.
A gift from god? Because I'm special?
She a walking tryptamine, Dimethyl—
Or all the dreams that come to be,
That comprise the Why I cannot see.
Or maybe it's for all the practice,
The swallow of an endless cactus.
An endless cactus that makes me stronger,
Makes me grow, go longer, longer.
Her's a peyote in a body,
My Hate-Fear-Spite love antibody.
The next night she turns to psilocybin,
Visions tighten, ripen, brighten.
Last of all, mother Aya,
Held, rinsed, set by mother Gaia.
All of these may play a part,
As to what happened to my heart.
Though as to Why, behind What and Where,
I cannot say, I tried, I swear.