God in My Tea

Sometimes it’s nice to forget who you are,
Simply soak in the feeling that nothing is amiss,
To have a teacup brush the wistfulness off your lips,
The sharp sting of ginger, the woody cinnamon flavor caress your larynx,
To feel the golden sweetness of honey bees swirl in your mouth,
To experience in the ritual of evening tea, a slight, joyous death,
The death of the mammoth mind.
For those precious moments,
The teacup is the culmination of all your desires,
The sipping and the slurping become a form of meditation,
The everyday act of drinking a solemn, sacred space,
Expanding the heart into the heart of creation,
The tea-cup philosophy isn't really new,
It’s a religion to those who know and believe that nature in all its variants,
Is just another form of God.

The Song of the Sufi Masroof