A cup full of water, hiding in a chest of drawers.
A cup full of water, staying still in the dark, whatever the weather.
A cup full of water, with no sign, no mark, just this liquid inside her.
She has been there for years, resting, waiting, for someone to find her despite her strange behavior. She has no wish, no desire, but to be cocooning, and spend the rest of her life in the same place, with no thrill.
It is quite bizarre though, to think of the hazard that puts her in this drawer, afraid of everything and everyone that would come to stare at her, friendly or gentle, no matter. She indeed doesn’t belong to this dark corner, as a bird would not be expected in the center of a fire.
It is however easy to discover why she feels dizzy at the simple idea of leaving this misery and be exposed to the world, entire. She is perfect, with no ripple at the surface of the water. Her color is bright red, a total contrast with the shadow around her,
and she is terrified to be broken and spoiled by the first stranger.
So she stays there, almost not breathing, not taking a rest, with the obsession of being struck be lightening if she dares
smile, sing and dance.
This is absurd though. She is in a complet protected environment, safe from everything, except from her own torments, where a tremendous giant stares at her and laughs from her fears, which means she’s trapped like in a catafalque.
But she keeps shivering eveytime something rings, a bell, a song or the milkman delivery. She can’t help it, she feels stupid a bit, she wonders why she is not able to overcome this doom, and at last bloom, like a flower in the middle of a field of war and terror. So she stays paralyzed, petrified like under a glaze, perfect but neglected, like an insect which has been pined.
And it lasts, its lasts, as she seems like ice, beautiful but fragile, wonderful but immobile ; the exact
face of grace, after which the Evil craves.
Is it going to carry on like this forvever ? A amazing creature glued in the oil of a tanker ? A treasure which thinks it is in danger ?
Of course not ! The time has come to untied the knots, to detroy all of this paranoid.
It is not going to be a pleasure, like forcing a baby to get out of the womb, full of fear and anger, unhappy to reach this world corrupt and darker ;
but there is no over choice, unless to suffocate and crumble over ;
but the only issue to this run away is failure ;
but now it is time to move further.
This cup is far more that she imagines. She is not that small and fragile, but like a star shining. If she remains in this place, she is going to face disgrace, shame and tears, and simply disappear.
She doesn’t need to do much though ; events are on their way to let her go, to free her from this golden cage and throw this past into garbage.
The chest of drawers ? Turned into powder.
The dark and lone corner ? Enlighted by the sun for ever.
But for that aim, that goal, there is something that needs to be said, once for all :
It is not because she feels small and tiny
that she must behave like a baby,
shout and cry eveytime there is a supposed negative energy.
The size has nothing to see with being weak or brave, innocent or mighty.
The attitude instead, is what makes you become a slave or an amazing fairy.
This cup needs to embrace her destiny. It is no more possible to remain in such a comedy. She has over things to do than hide purporsely.
First, she throws away this water, which keeps her cold and in terror, of dropping, failing or shiver.
Then, she replaces it by a strong, warm tea, full of flavors.
At last, she opens to the world and offers this unique beverage, like an elixir for desirs,
of passion, love and fire.
And she will suddenly cry and shout, with joy and power, amazed and estonished to have waited all these years, hiding and shaking, whereas she could have being a dancer, in the center of the stage, with the crowd getting bigger and bigger,
chanting her name and thanking her,
for bringing brotherhood and love
and raising it high above,
It is now time to move on, to become one unique ton, the first note from a melody, the one that sings :
« C’est la vie ! »