A Dying Leaf Painted Green

Its a poem with the same name as the book it is in. It's about meditation while smoking weed(the gift of the Ganges), the journey, its limitations and lessons.
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As I spark the gift of the Ganges

 Earth turns to ash and breath to smoke. 

And I peer into the faraway depths of the sky.

 I feel eternity looking back at me. 

As it always has. 

Only now, that I am still and calm as the blue.

 As fumes escape my lungs and into the heavens. 

And my essence flies gracefully as the white, 

That I am everywhere yet still here 

As I should be. 

Floating through the nebulas of thought and space.

 I drift on ancient currents of meditation. 

Carrying me to ecstasy and wisdom.

 I inhaled deeper to reach the summit.

As I usually do.

 And as I peaked over the horizon of limitation.

 The burden of existence shackled me.

 Though I can hold the chains.

  I cannot break them without too myself.

As we all must do 

Eventually. 

 However, slumber came before dawn. 

The summit was higher than smoke can rise

 A dying leaf aflame is but a crutch

 And seen as green until it's kicked from under you.

 Yet I am grateful for the rise and the fall. 

As I a simple man ought to be.

By Christian Hinkson

From: Trinidad and Tobago