Tranquili-tea

 

Tranquili-tea 

                                 

 If I could speak a word that has power.

Something with meaning.

Soul.

To give you a beautiful word shower.

                         How much I love you, and your being.

If I could with ink and pen.

Describe you.

                And dip into your soul again and again.

                  I’d write words made only out of love.

A warm splash of sunlight.

A ray of gold.

                I’d dip my words into a mountain stream.

                      I’d climb until the full view was seen.

                   I’d gather all the best words from every scroll.

          And collect every beautiful word I could find, or ever heard, or was told.               And use them to describe you.

                  And that would only be a partial of the gold.

  I’d gaze into the starry sky, and collect the beauty I found, all the forgotten stars, and whispered sighs. The beautiful clouds, and red sunrise.

Every moonlight night.

   Every beautiful dream.

Every beautiful, sound, lost on the wind. 

   Every unseen flower, blooming.

All the green.

 I’d go from one end of the earth, and find, every rare, valuable, and exotic, every good thing hidden within the soul’s beautiful mind.

I’d find all the best words in every language, and bring them back, like best spices, and oils, and fragrances and food, butterflies, and dandelions, and feathers, and beautiful pieces of rocks, and wood.

       And write them down, in a slow, and caressing way, and kiss each word as I gave them away.

        I’d stroke you, with a feather pen, so softly, I’d write you again and again.

                           With such glorious penmanship, we would find, a secret place, a palace, without time. We’d dance, and swirl within the words. Gliding within their folds.

                             And within the invisible sound.

                  I’d comb through your words like I was brushing hair.

             I’d feel your skin, like the fresh mountain air.

        I’d see your eyes reflected true, in all the colors I describe as you.

                        I’d feel your touch, your voice, your soul.

Within the words.

My heart, my scroll.

I’d hear you breathe.

And speak you closer and closer still.

I’d feel you, then write you down.

And give away the sound.

You who inspire my own small rhymes.

I’d brew a word tea, just for you.

Something you could always go to when you needed to find, something celestial, something divine.

A tea, that transcends the boundaries of space, and time.

Sprinkled with all the best thoughts.

A magic mixture, within one of my own teapots.

I’d mix all the best things I had found. All the wisdom, dried, and ground.

All those things that make life sweet.

All the goodness, you’ll ever need.

I’d brew it up, with extra care.

Making sure, only love was brewed there.

I’d wait until it started singing a lot.

Then I’d know the mixture was extra hot.

I’d pour a cup, for you to drink.

Only the best, beautiful thoughts for you to think.

A healing cup, a soothing sound, something you could always keep around.

Something to comfort, and warm your soul.

Something to take with you wherever you go.

So that no thing will be too big, or too hard.

Something to give strength and courage.

Drink these words.

Sip them slowly.

Take away all thoughts of ever being lonely.

Drink until you can feel your soul.

Drink, until you feel, perfectly whole.

Drink, until the truth steeps in. Fills you up, and you feel, yourself, again, and again.

Drink until you have found, your own tranquility, abound.

Look and see, written in your cup.

The tea leaves, telling you.

Always, to look up.