The first time I realized who I’m really not

I was tripping on mushrooms.

I had a wordless conversation with the sky –

there was this one fluffy cloud I was really vibing with.

I laughed out loud, I cried a little;

we really understood each other.

It was something I had intellectually known for years: 

I am you/ are we/ are nothing

and everything 

all at once

but it’s a truth you can’t grasp entirely, 

can’t quite believe or understand,

like the sheer size of the universe

or the near impossibility of our existence.

On that day looking up into the shiny blue sky 

from my 6th floor patio in Brooklyn,

in that moment that transcended time and space,

what i am/ who i am not

danced and swirled and smiled at each other,

gentle friends delighted at the thought

of a cloud, of a building,

of a human with a thinking brain.

I rested on the pulse of the universe,

I rode its vagus nerve,

I felt the weightlessness of being.