Strolling near Your garden,
The Fragrance took my Heart,
And my Soul began sobbing.
I knocked in Wonder at The Gate,
And opening ever so slightly,
Lest Heaven overwhelm me…
You held out this Cup.
What's in this Tea,
That its Fragrance alone,
Gives rise to Unbearable Longing?
Why is my Heart suddenly troubled,
With an Ancient Ache,
So Sublime?
How is it this pain of Longing,
Contains the very Sweetness,
Of that which is Longed for?
Not yet even sipping,
But in Fragrance alone abiding,
I cannot speak.… Intoxicated.
Tea to lip…
“I”, so full in knowledge,
Am become a Doe-Eyed Fool.
Beloved, can you not tell me,
For surely you must know…
What's in this Tea?
“Surrender,” She whispered,
“For this is the tea of Forgetfulness,
And Remembrance.”
