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
– no fear of getting burnt –
Drink you down to the depths
Of sweet Spirit, and of Truth
And of grace.