Sitting still as a bee,
Drinking delicious cold tea.
A sunny day rains and shines,
Making sure freedom is mine.
The bird sings a broken heart,
Spring comes like a dying art.
Ceramic Artist
Sitting still as a bee,
Drinking delicious cold tea.
A sunny day rains and shines,
Making sure freedom is mine.
The bird sings a broken heart,
Spring comes like a dying art.
A cup of tea in my hands
Water green, black, brown or red
Muddy or pure, life sits in my hands
A mindful sip, how lightly I tread
Enjoy life, let go of strife.
Wander through, it’s all you.
Why so serious, enjoy the mysterious.
Smile with ease, life is such a tease.
I sit there looking at you,
suddenly everything goes blue.
My heart drops to the dumps,
but I’ve learned to ride the bumps.
Spiraling’round the funnel,
I see light at the end of the tunnel.
You spit me back out,
with barely a breath left throughout.
Sputtering at the blue sky,
I feel a weird high.
Without a thought for me,
you roll on free.
What just happened?
Was this not the end?
Everything goes blank,
like a fish out of its tank.
Again, I sit looking at you,
wondering when it will all turn blue.
Morning tea above the misty sea;
Over the mountains, the sky is free;
Soaring high, what can you see?
Tiny speckles, an ant on a tree.
Work is done and soon forgotten.
Living on, never downtrodden.
Looking out, there are no doors,
Simple space and open floors.
Rain or shine, blue or gray,
There is no single way.
The sun sets and the day softens.
As it happens so often,
The end of an adventure.
A tired body ready for the future.
Front to back, through and through I’m a hack.
Looking at this track, I no longer know what’s a fact.
In and out, everything makes me want to shout.
Skinned like a trout, I’m getting ready for the next bout.
Red, white and blue, always gave me such a fright.
Like a child in the night, I’m blind without any insight.
Lacking humility, I suffer the woes of absent tranquility.
Jump’in up and down, my tantrum is crowned with a frown.
This deep rent in my heart, what is the spark of this discontent?
It’s wet, it’s cold.
May I be so bold,
As to invite thee,
For a cup of tea?
Blood of the earth,
Fires from the hearth.
Water, air, earth & fire,
The elements aspire
to join in harmony.