The Birth

The psychedelic moment,

when your heart trips on awareness.

Drinking deep, the ale of timelessness.

Knowing well, these words are an illusion, a geometrical dream of thought.

We are alive, but like a ghost disguised, haunted by the breath of hope.

I am haunted by the beauty of this moment, as it leaves my side.

A burst of color, I am born.

Can you feel me softly caress your face, as I fall like jasmine summer rain?

‘The Birth’