Occulted Light Revealed

I wrote this little poem just now while watching the trees tussle with the wind. This poem encapsulates some of the feelings and inklings I received from the peruvian torch cactus last night (trichocereus peruvianus).

As the mind frees itself of its self-imposed tethers,
it engages in the timeless art of mental flight.
It dalliances with the four winds, the empty sky,
the poetic tongue of twilight.
The emancipated mind visits the distant vistas of being and time,
and asks the question: "Where did it all begin (if it began at all)?"
It roams in pockets of space where rarefied secrets dwell, it skulks
in imaginal civilizations outside the calcified skull,
it bivouacs under stark skies that have never been named.
When it returns to the transitory abode, the flesh castle
of sinew and marrow, it proclaims to the silent world
that everything is composed of light, and that this
light is endless delight.