Goosebumps sprout in the drizzle of this ethereal emotion. I’m marveled at what I feel; even the word ‘Ecstasy’ cannot convey its depth. It’s like the heaven-light illuminating my soul. Oh, I don’t think it’s an apt simile. My mind floats in the sublime air as a milkweed seed. It’s not the unreal reality created by mescaline. It’s as pure as innocence, seems to spring from my rock-bottom. From this indefinable emotion, a new poem is born without a cesarean. Lines are not faux; rhythm is unique. Soon, the euphoric vibes vanish. A sweet mood is always transient. Unlike a rainbow, this emotional phenomenon is a mystery. First published in The Literary Hatchet.