A Cup Full of Mirror

A ring now forms,

brown and worn,

too tired to refill it,

too burdened to remove—

its contents remain;

if they could speak,

of tears and worry and pain

they would leak

into the ears

of those who could hear.

My coffee cup . . .  my coffee cup.

I stare into it,

cold and bitter now,

my soul it mirrors,

no know how,

lack of pow-

-er, lack of control,

be still, my soul.

Does He hear?

My heart laid bare,

O Father, please draw near!

My coffee cup . . . my coffee cup.

Aged and unstirred,

needing a good shake,

ready to be served,

past its time for drink;

commentary of a man

in a desert land

upon whom God from heaven

must descend with drink

of solace and peace and healin’,

bring me back from think-

-in ’bout my coffee cup . . . my coffee cup.

 

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  1. #1 by benmillerjones on August 6, 2014 - 10:40 am

    For I have known them all already, known them all:
    Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
    I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
    I know the voices dying with a dying fall
    Beneath the music from a farther room.
    So how should I presume?

    T.S. Elliot

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