FLOW

From a tiny oval, a bud opens into a wide symmetrical blossom

Then ripens into a fleshy fruit

Then withers away from rot or being eaten.

And so on forever the flow of form continues.

Like the experience of certain psychedelics.

Spreading, diminishing, aligning, intermingling,

Synchronizing through shapes and colors

As well as meaning

Feels like the same ongoing process

That guides the rise of reality through time

And though rhythmic,

Not smoothly temporal

But winding and hovering and suddenly bursting

Evolution has a mind of its own.

The mind has an evolution of its own.

Nothing else but flow exists.

Written by Julia Yusupova