Oh, Dionysis, liquid king,
Forgive me for those thoughts I bring.
The sweetest wine, by you divine,
Pulls not from my heart's strings.

The water boils, burning hot.
It matches feelings of heart's rot.
But from the leaves, some pleasure bleeds
That sense that I have sought.

Thoughts of calm ooze from the cup
Will they become me if I sup?
In dead of night, I search for light
In steam that rises up.

Yet, through the mix of boiled flowers,
The twang of bitter lasts for hours.
It comes to me to set me free
From complete beauty's power.

Because that is my true desire
I make tea with calming fire
Add honneyed milk to taste like silk
So my thoughts can be higher
Than bitterness of mire
The mix will grow inside my soul
To burn a beauteous pyre.

back to the highway that never ends