Thirst

When I listen to you live my throat feels dry.

My lips crack and dry up,

Thirsty for water that breathes deeply

Into my longing.

Lifting the cup to my mouth I hesitate,

Pursed lips tentatively gasping,

Drawing you in like hot tea that might blister my tongue

Rendering all else tasteless.

But I’d rather drink you down

(with

–     no fear of getting burnt     –

reckless

gulping

drafts)

Drink you down to the depths

Of sweet Spirit, and of Truth

And of grace.

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Filed under beauty, fear, grace, poetry, random, truth

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