Cuppacino

Imagine a tall white porcelain vessel; crafted with love, moulded by time and strengthened through flame.

WIthin it's pure exterior lies dark sensual contents; a vessel and its precious cargo, docked at a harbour -- safe from the winds, but held fast by its anchor. While the seas are calm and the winds were quiet, the harbour air still hinted a storm -- a cyclone of hot, woody and rich aroma, circling within the vessel. Ah, mysterious black gold -- coffee.

From where I sit, my eyes anticipate your taste. Framed in white, dressed in bronze and blessed with spots of cocoa on the top: cuppacino. From where you stir, my mind feels your richness, modestly vieled in white and trails of mahagony.

Soon, I too could feel the signs; something was boiling beneath the ocean of brown silk. Yet, true to its nature, the fabric holds fast to these challenges, hiding all that attempt to disturb it in its graceful undulating waves. Beyond the surface, all remains hidden and unmoved -- neither the aroma, nor appearance seems altered. Perhaps the only way to truely know is through the intimate knowledge of taste.

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I smile and take a deep breath. It's been a while since my mind has last captured a moment like this, I thought, accented with a sigh. I let the picturisque moment stir on my mind for a while longer, longing for its aftertaste.

It's been a little difficult for me to pen these moment down lately. I'm not sure why -- could it have been the other preoccupations and academic demands that have dumbed the artist? Or could my edginess have been the simple price I paid for peace? Oh, what a price to pay. The words don't flow as easily these days. And strangely, I feel the urge in me to embrace pain again -- if only for a while so that I can stuggle and feel alive again.

Perhaps the reverse is true -- that I have indeed found a resting place, and my state of suspension is simply because I'm not used to it. Indeed, a placid silence has at times replaced the thunderous rhythm of my soul. I have found a peace, or rather, a peace has finally found me -- thank you. But I know now, that I am not one to rest on laurels. It is seems appropriate for me to be inspired once again and evolve, to something different, something new.

Oh, I search eternally for inspiration. Though that search leads me frequently back to several magical sources, I wish never to settle on just one -- for inspiration itself grows, lives and dies with changes; to abduct one source as my own would surely squander its beauty at the price of affirming my foolishness. There is no guarantee, it seems that what inspired me yesterday will continue to inspire me today and tomorrow, but all I can do is try to be inspired; keep searching and discovering, though never may I settle on what I find.

For now, I will keep on searching. In moderation, but still searching.



JKLM