Memories without remedies 

long for Spring.

Aquarelle skies,
Lethargic 

above the cedars,
the smokey grey thickens
as though, 

everything true 

stirs out from its melancholy.



Everything aches, 

stiffles in my soul, 
not a word will murmur.

My note book, my pen, and i 

thriving to relate, 
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, 

a cup of tea has unexpected graces, unexpected virtues, 

almost 

spiritually redeeming;

Spirituality sometimes can 

sit in a cupful of flavours . 

In those tea leaves, 

an ascending fragrance 

drawn from Earth's own Soul set into my whole being.


Today,  
is one of those days 

where the warmth in the tea 

had all its meanings.
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, 

synchronsing 

with everything that hides behind - stones, streams and laughter.

You came to refuge yourself

on a blank page 

End up

celebrating

the purity of life.

A sip of tea.



.