“A sonnet reminiscent of "High Flight" about ayahuasca”

Oh, ancient brew that whispers in the night,  
Dark river’s gift, the jungle’s woven spell,  
Within your depths, the soul takes sudden flight,  
Beyond the reach where usual senses dwell.  
Ayahuasca, vine of spirit’s birth,  
Your bitter taste, a gate to paths unseen,  
You lift the veil that hides the living earth  
And paint with colors none could name or glean.  
Through thundering silence, serpent coils arise,  
Old ancestors are singing in the leaves—  
Their laughter thunder in the midnight skies,  
Their tears are mist the emerald forest weaves.  
Transfigured heart, in dawn’s forgiving light,  
Returns to flesh, and knows the dark was bright.

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