My boiling water

And there I was, next to the boiling water.
The kettle was boiling, I was boiling.... we were boiling at the same speed.
The water was transformed into air, and the salt sank heavily on the bottom.

There was not much more to say, nor to do
but I still decided to put the water to boil.
Now that I think about it - it seemed a duplicated scene.

It boiled, I watched, we connected.
It showed me the inside,
took me into a space I haven't been in a while
I cried...

They weren't tears of sorrow.
Sorrows left behind long before that moment.
Those were tears of letting go.
Each of them left me, transformed into air
I saw them pass by and waved goodbye
Thank you - I managed to say at the end

The water stopped boiling,
the tea was ready,
the soup as well.
All done, cooked and prepared.

I was not hungry any more,
had feed myself with air, silence and waiting
left the emptiness open, with no urge to fill it in
Gave away the tea, the soup, the salt
Now I was fine.



To boil the water, one needs to conceive a temperature of 100 degrees
it can happen in minutes, or it can take thousand years...
It all depends on how we raise the temperature.
Sometimes we are the master chef, that will set the fire and control the flame
some others, we are 'chef de plonge' watching our water being boiled at a speed we might not agree on.


But don't worry!
in one life time we all have the chance to play both roles.
Enjoy, be delighted, inspired and transformed...
at the end it is just a ride!


V.