Memories without remedies
long for Spring.
Aquarelle skies,
Lethargic
above the cedars,
the smokey grey thickens
as though,
the smokey grey thickens
as though,
everything true
stiffles in my soul,
not a word will murmur.
My note book, my pen, and i
not a word will murmur.
My note book, my pen, and i
thriving to relate,
And nothing happens.
And nothing happens.
So
i watch the rain; knees tucked on the couch
with a bowl of steaming hot tea.
In circumstances such as this,
i watch the rain; knees tucked on the couch
with a bowl of steaming hot tea.
In circumstances such as this,
a cup of tea has unexpected graces, unexpected virtues,
almost
spiritually redeeming;
Spirituality sometimes can
Spirituality sometimes can
sit in a cupful of flavours .
In those tea leaves,
an ascending fragrance
where the warmth in the tea
had all its meanings.
Anything done with depth responds equally in a deep manner;
Anything done with depth responds equally in a deep manner;
Even drinking Tea.
Dramatically,
it transforms all your sighs into a love letter.
Shifting you into your sunlights.
Roots crackle within you,
Moving
like the prana from your hara,
Dramatically,
it transforms all your sighs into a love letter.
Shifting you into your sunlights.
Roots crackle within you,
Moving
like the prana from your hara,
synchronsing
with everything that hides behind - stones, streams and laughter.
You came to refuge yourself
You came to refuge yourself
on a blank page
End up
celebrating
the purity of life.
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