Fantasy Poem by Albert Ahearn

Standing amidst the forest trees
listening to their whispered words
breathing their breaths like they are mine.
Enveloped with viridescence:
variants of moss, leaves and grass
whose olfactics overwhelm me.
My mind is intoxicated,
seemingly assimilated
with every patch, leaf and blade of grass
whose metabolism’s are mine
or conversely mine became theirs.
Consequentially, I confess
my fancies assume my psyche
and Truth becomes an illusion.