A Spoon Reflects on Its Place in the Universe

The spoon bends,
questioning its existence.
“Am I a tool or a mirror?”
it wonders,
as the soup refuses to be stirred.
A revolution brews in the kettle,
but the tea leaves laugh in code.

In the quiet of the kitchen,
the spoon ponders its purpose,
caught between the mundane and the profound,
its polished surface reflecting
the chaos of a world unseen.
Each dip into the broth,
a dance of significance,
yet the flavors swirl
in stubborn defiance.

The kettle whistles a sharp reminder,
a call to awaken the senses,
but the spoon remains still,
lost in contemplation.
Is it merely a vessel for sustenance,
or a confidant to the simmering thoughts
that bubble beneath the surface?

In the end, the spoon is both,
and neither,
the stirrer of both soup and thought,
a bridge between the tangible and the ethereal,
where liquid dreams mingle
with the weight of existence.