A pure wind envelops my body.
The whole world seen in a single cup.
Some mornings, my cup seems to hold the whole world in its depths. I fall in love with the fragrant tea and its earthenware vessel, with the table on which they rest, with the whole wide world and the deep blue space in which it floats, with my kitchen window and this tattered old life, all over again.
Then I sit down in front of the computer to write about the experience, and I simply can't get the words together to describe it, can manage a single inadequate paragraph, and that is all - a rapt little bowl of words to describe something vast and beautiful, something sentient and breathing and boundless and inexpressible.