The herb that burns
With fragrance sweet and sour
Crystal and green churns
Of the potent flower
Inhale, exhale
Compose the air with a hardly tangible Braille
The ghost of the herb on smoke sail
Relax, inspire
Creativity afire
Let it be known that
That the preacher is nothing without quire
Expressions flow
Smiles and realization
Simple ideas grow
With unique concentration
Playful paradigms and brainstorms snow
Then sink random to reach destination
Above Self expression’s highest plateau
HURRAH FOR GANJA