psychedelics
safe space for psychonauts — share your stories, gift experience
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I sought myself in winding paths,
In mirrors and quiet meditations—
But yagé, the vine of visions, became my guide,
A serpent of the soul, twisting through truth and dream.
Sometimes it whispered plain as dawn,
Other times, draped in symbol’s veil,
It led me to the river of reflection,
Where my shadows danced in the ripples.
Of all the spirits I could have met,
It was the creature I feared the most—
The one I could not bear to see—
That slithered into my visions, ancient and wise.
The serpent, shedding skin and time,
Showed me not a god, but a mystery—
Not a path to holiness, but a crack in the veil,
An echo of the unexplainable, raw and unbound. 1 reply
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