Sunlight and Tea

It all starts with sunlight and tea.
Colors swirl and blend into something precious and tender.
It begins amazing, like a first kiss or a flicker to a flame and it's as graceful as a ballerina sweeping across a wooden floor in a dance of innocence and magic.
Our life is the dance of all ages.
It's the beat to our drum.
And the magic to the pen that writes our book, chapter by fantastic chapter.
We spin and twirl throughout the day.
We call it monotony.
We call it routine.
We call it anything but what it should be called.
Life.
And we ignore the abundance that overflows.
"My cup overfloweth."
My cup...
Our energies intertwine with other energies and spark off new lights that only our souls can see and our hearts can feel. 
Our eyes are diluted, our senses dulled by words and hate and mockery.
We recall other more beautiful words that make us feel better.
The ones that make us feel alive and freed from any bonds or chains that we have set upon ourselves.
You are beautiful.
You are a mess.
You are so unique. A one of a kind.
You are a tragedy.
You are a kaleidoscope of every human emotion. Every extraordinary experience. 
We search for these letters of meaning because when we look in the mirror we see anything but meaning.
We see recklessness.
We see a smudge of grays blended into a fog.
But it all starts with sunlight and tea.
And some of the most important things that we'll never be able to see in ourselves.
It begins amazing, like a first kiss or a flicker to a flame.
And it ends with moon glow and streetlights.
Our life is the dance of all ages.
It's the beat to our own drum.
It's wild and childlike.
And each chapter we write is permanent. Neither time nor want can erase it from the pages. It cannot be burned or destroyed. That's the magic in the ink. 
That's the timelessness in our souls.
Just as some rob others of theirs we can give to others this thing that we call monotony or routine.
Life. 
That's what it's called.
And it's so beautiful.
Just so in the tragedy of it all as it is in the wonderous dance of it all.
And "My cup overfloweth" Dear Lord. 
My cup...
I am beautiful.
I am a mess.
I am as different as the thorn from the rose.
And I am even a tragedy.
Because I am a kaleidoscope of every human emotion. 
Raw and real and filled to the brim with stardust and pure magic.
And it all starts with sunlight and tea.