The full empty cup

A poem of paradox

This piece is a poem to read slowly when you have a moment of pause in your day. Best paired with a warm coffee and morning birdsong or favorite living room chair…

It stems from the question I’ve been asking myself lately— what am I filling my cup with, and what will I be drinking and serving in times to come because of it?

This old drawing of mine seemed to pair with it well. I hope it stirs wonder in you.

---

The empty cup greets me silently
in the early morning light
her round pocket longing to be filled
as the day’s dance begins—
dewed grass blowing in the wind,
distant voices beckoning to be let in.


Awakening too,
or merely in motion I move,
the choice not always observed 
by my hungry nature,
this inherently ravenous being. 


And boldly
the black coffee steams
like it tends to do.


And generously
the gushing water streams
like it tends to do.


And rapidly 
the red rogue runs dry 
like it tends to do.


And all was good.


Yet this good asks nothing

except 
maybe
in 
whisper

easily drowned 
as pour after pour
eliminates emptiness without lessening my lack.


Still the whisper resurrects.
Still the whisper stirs the wind,

loosening my strands of hair 
like it might know each one,
inviting the whole silently 
to come undone.


As curiosity begins to lift my head, 
my gaze follows pursuit.


And wildly
the weathered oaks dance
like they tend to do.


And lovingly
the lush lilies bloom
like they tend to do.


And faithfully
the firm vines flourish
like they tend to do.


So I set my empty cup
at these roots
only to find 
my fill already prepared for me,
satiated by the surrender
of another.


This expansiveness awoken upon beholding—
a kingdom of abundance,
a portion unceasing. 


And in His holy garden
my thirst finds rest. 

---

with love and wonder,

p.s. For more curiosity toward this question, part three of my inquiry into rhythm is waiting for you…

I do not take lightly you sharing in this venture by reading my words. I hope it sparked wonder afresh in you. You are sowing into me by being here, thank you.