Weak Tea

I am you.

I cannot separate myself from you.

You came into my life, caught me up and carried me away, taught me the futility of drinking weak tea, watered down until it had no real taste, tepid and muddied, leaving me wanting.

My tongue prefers to be scalded, to suffer the sting of blisters whose presence remind me of the intensity, the full bodied flavor of you. I want to inhale your fragrance at our peak. I want each tiny scar to stay here where I feel its presence and remember what made me who I am.

I am you and I am you and I am so much more. I am the child of who we were, who we are. Born out of Love's deep light and cast back into the world a changed creature.

No longer able to tolerate weak tea, I grab it by the cupful now, gulping greedily, glowing with the dewy intensity of experience in all its rich and joyous flavor.