Salvia Odyssey

A small bitter ball of midnight-black wax,
Smelling of tea, and time's passing,
And fey sorcery.

Lights out. I lie down in bed.
It's like getting ready for sleep
Yet beside me are a bowl and towel.

I chew the wax.
A little something
Sparkles in the darkness.

The wax is dissolving,
The universe is fragmenting.
Into green patterns.

Fractal, complex.
No joy. No fear.

Become the still point.
Lash myself to the mast
Of stillness

Consciousness persists.

Hold breath to increase effect.
And fractal lights bloom.

Many people.
Many places.
My name is legion.

Many times.
A bar in Dublin, near the water.
Ulysses? Joyce?

No and Yes.
A pioneer wagon
crossing the icy Missouri.

Become not one person.
But a family amid
Cold brown in-pouring waters.

Dying consciousness falls
Into an infolding green flower.
Petals closing inwards.

Falling into a black hole.
Within whose event horizon
Is neither death, nor time.

Losing self who becomes the universe?
Dying was nothing at all.
Death is being everything.

Something urgent.
A need to spit. Spitting
Wiping a mouth with a towel

I feel a face pushing into a bowl.
I feel a bowl pushing into a face.
I have a face! A face!

The Zen master asked
“What was your original face
before you were conceived?”

Besaged laughter,
the koan makes sense.
All has always been.

Awareness crystallizes,
Out of a cooling magma,
One crystal choosing to be me.

I know my name.
Jump out of bed.

Get into the hot tub,
Soaking up heat.
Soaking up life.

Lazarus returning.
Orpheus returning.
Odysseus returning.

Is that Argus barking?
No! It's real.
My dogs are barking.

I give them dog biscuits.
Trip's over.
I'm back.

—Sage Student