Metaphysical Orgy Poem by Alexandre Nodopaka

Nothing like
a spiritual orgy.
My soul

already soars
but my metaphysical soles
keep it tethered

to the 3rd planet
from the Sun.
I heard

from an Indian shaman
who said
that the bottom

of our feet
upon striking the dirt
become beams of light

that illuminate
the vagaries
of our earthly treks.

And another Russian shaman
(they exist, you know)
realizing it'd take

too long to travel by foot
made us grow wings
and in the process

of flying
we came too close
to the truth.

This as divulged
by my barber trimming my do
to the latest fad.