Sipping New England Tea

Rolling,
dark gray clouds,


Sipping,
late noon tea.


Listening,
aberginian winds.


Late rain,
drizzling on skin.


Slowly I become something other than,
myself,
while still remaining,
myself.


With every long sip of tea I change into,
the ground,
the air,
the water.


My skin flakes away akin to feathers while,
my skeleton erodes to dust while,
my consciousness exists the same.


I change into the elements,
I am the rolling clouds,
I am the hot elm tea,
I am the soft rain.
I am.


Free from restrictions I can be,
everywhere,
no where.


Free from restrictions I am,
everything,
nothing.


The seed that bestows life,
the germ that suffocates,
I am,
I am.


Rolling,
dark gray clouds,




Late rain,
drizzling on skin.


I am
I am.



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