The first bowl moistens my lips and throat.
The second bowl banishes my loneliness and melancholy.
The third bowl penetrates my withered entrails, finding nothing except a literary core of five thousand scrolls.
The fourth bowl raises a light perspiration, casting life’s inequities out through my pores.
The fifth bowl purifies my flesh and bones.
The sixth bowl makes me one with the immortal, feathered spirits.
The seventh bowl I need not drink, feeling only a pure wind rushing beneath my wings.Where are the immortal isles of Mount P’englai?
~ excerpted from Song of Tea by Lu Tung
This poem never gets old, and is the inspiration behind my Sunday Six Tea Circle held via Zoom. I look forward to serving you. Please join in tomorrow at 1pm BST, if you feel called to ride on the back of the dragon across the clouds. Link to RSVP is in my bio. Until we share Tea. 🌿🕊☁️