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Beneath the eaves a chime will sway its song a gentle ancient tune
You hide your thoughts in porcelain glaze and wait upon a quiet moon
Within the cup a silver light—
a tender truth that shuns the night
It’s not the dark that veils the skies but restless tides that never cease
Yet in the hush the answers rise and every silence ripens peace
Fewest words grow round and clear
Patience turns the blade to sheer
Amid the crowd the cup retains a world as calm as painted streams
You trace the rim as if to read the chapters in your softened dreams
Bitterness with heat will fade
Past will loosen gently laid
The wind is still the chime is mute the moon pours full in porcelain’s grace
You lift it high—your heart turns light
For to love in quiet space
Is already the world’s most radiant sight
