THE TEA CUP

   In the beginning I was given a tea cup.
Perfect and porcelain.
I clung to it in awe and amazement.
As I grew I treated it with tenderness and great care.
Using my cup in every exploration of my imagination.
I would fill the cup and in turn it would fill me.
Some I let into my space would marvel at the beauty of my cup.
Some that came treated it with disregard and malice.
Placed on the shelf for safe keeping the chalice of my life was soon forgotten.
Not all together forgotten, mind you. I dragged it everywhere I traveled, not as a treasure, more as an after thought.
The piece of fine China that accompanied me through my journey was always being filled.
First it was milk and honey, then whiskey and wine. I would fill it and it would fill me right back.
Some where along the way I lost her and she soon became a distant memory.
In the winter of my life the cup is found. To my surprise I  found that even in the absence of my company and care, my cup has been filled all along.
Not with nourishment or substance, but with chips and cracks.
Still beautiful and porcelain, the cracks and chips are being mended. The dust has been wiped away to reveal the original brilliance of color.
The decision has been made.
Only those who revel and marvel at the cup will be allowed to hold her, touch her, love her.
Only those who see the cup and not the cracks will be worthy of her presence....... lesson learned.