A Cup Full of Tea
My Mother set the cup of tea beside me. I was reading a very interesting article about tangerine trees and marmalade skies. I was momentarily distracted by my cup of tea. I shifted my attention to the cup.
Simple things are the ones that are the most Beautiful. There is a marvel in every small thing. I watched the sunlight lightly caress the cup, wrapping its soft smooth arms around it,lighting it up as the light that illuminates the one that has seen Heaven. I watched the condensed drops on the inner rim of the cup,like sweat drops that adorn a farmer's forehead as he toils in the fields. the sweat drops adorn him like a crown. that is his crown.
the steam,the wispy vapors that arise from the cup almost make me philosophical.
The steam looks like spirits escaping. The ivory colored steams remind me of acts of kindness done by the people around even while wars and scams ravage our country. The steams look like ghosts trapped in a stone basin.
The steam, very like the ideas that flit across an idle mind during hours of solitude in the afternoon. Each idea having so much potential,but having been just let go of. Sometimes it is better to let go. It looks so uncontrollable. The very moment I think of it as something uncontrollable I clamp my hand over the rim of the cup. Ha! haven't I controlled it now. Mankind has this unexplainable urge to control everything within its grasp. As the palm of my hand heats up I think of the way the heads of our country or any country for that point, clamps a hand on the sentiments and aggression of the people. But after a while it gets too hot to handle. The same thing happens to me as I remove my now hot palm from the cup. I watch bemused, at the speed at which the trapped steams escape the cup. Control what you want but you cannot stop it from its course, which is to escape and blend in air.
As I finish writing my musings, my cup of tea has gone cold while my minds warms with the thoughts I have just penned.
Prachi Shirole.
Feb 7, 2012
My Mother set the cup of tea beside me. I was reading a very interesting article about tangerine trees and marmalade skies. I was momentarily distracted by my cup of tea. I shifted my attention to the cup.
Simple things are the ones that are the most Beautiful. There is a marvel in every small thing. I watched the sunlight lightly caress the cup, wrapping its soft smooth arms around it,lighting it up as the light that illuminates the one that has seen Heaven. I watched the condensed drops on the inner rim of the cup,like sweat drops that adorn a farmer's forehead as he toils in the fields. the sweat drops adorn him like a crown. that is his crown.
the steam,the wispy vapors that arise from the cup almost make me philosophical.
The steam looks like spirits escaping. The ivory colored steams remind me of acts of kindness done by the people around even while wars and scams ravage our country. The steams look like ghosts trapped in a stone basin.
The steam, very like the ideas that flit across an idle mind during hours of solitude in the afternoon. Each idea having so much potential,but having been just let go of. Sometimes it is better to let go. It looks so uncontrollable. The very moment I think of it as something uncontrollable I clamp my hand over the rim of the cup. Ha! haven't I controlled it now. Mankind has this unexplainable urge to control everything within its grasp. As the palm of my hand heats up I think of the way the heads of our country or any country for that point, clamps a hand on the sentiments and aggression of the people. But after a while it gets too hot to handle. The same thing happens to me as I remove my now hot palm from the cup. I watch bemused, at the speed at which the trapped steams escape the cup. Control what you want but you cannot stop it from its course, which is to escape and blend in air.
As I finish writing my musings, my cup of tea has gone cold while my minds warms with the thoughts I have just penned.
Prachi Shirole.
Feb 7, 2012
