A Mountain Monk Warms Himself Absorbed Poem by Mark Heathcote

A mountain monk drank a cup of warm tea.
'This tea is me, and I am this cup of Chai tea.'
Its aromas are tinged—oh, how bittersweet!
And it never tastes the same on reheat.

Oh, how it fuses the past and present.
And neither does it taste unpleasant.
The mountain monk drank his cup of warm tea.
Listening in silence, he has become a devotee.

I see the universe in these tea leaves.
A swirling void opens, and the light receives
A direction it must follow unperturbed.
A mountain monk warms himself absorbed.

He stirs his pot in a clockwise motion.
This has long been a joyous potion.
But when this pot is finally empty,
I'll rejoin my brothers in their monastery.

I'll abandon myself entirely.
A binary star I'll pledge to be
Revolving around one greater than me
Just you, wait and see.