The woman in the tea leaves •
The woman in the tea leaves, looks to the side. This woman is worn and moss-like, she isn’t warm.
In the golden pool she clings to herself, unsure if it is right for her to stay. What good would it be to leave? and yet the endless drifting, nudging and shaking is making things difficult.
She knows no mane of lion, nor blade of grass. Her warmth once filled the cup, her hope would overflow it.
Somehow, the lack of control, being kept out of sight, measured and judged and discarded, it diminished her desire in the flicker of a flame.
Pondering while brewing, her specialty. Her energy surrenders itself for the last time into this hearty mug, ready to be swallowed up.
Her lifeless life reminds her that she does not deserve the outside. In a bubble she is consumed by her hopeless thoughts. Rattled to her core, spiralling
further and further from her own needs.
Then, she is gone.