Wicked Weed
I consumed it once, to avoid my loneliness.
I felt—wow—euphoric! Was I walking on air?
Was it a celestially blessed coziness?
Wasn't it like being in nature's divine care?
I saw crores of rainbows surrounding my being;
I was sailing silently on a sea of peace.
On clouds of endless ages of time, I was skiing—
Gulfs between deaths and resurrections seemed to cease.
How long will all these last? I did not know. I slept.
What did I find except darkness when I woke up?
Like a child born only to die, I bleakly wept;
There were only slips of lips on my broken cup.
Why chase a ghost and mock your inner need?
Must not the soul break through its binding weed?
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