Seeds

Coffee grinds in the mug remind me of my inability to filter my thoughts in transition from my mind to my mouth. The product, as different as it may be, still shows remnants of the seed. The seed, dry roasted and fragmented, brewed and diluted then run through a fine screen, perhaps not fine enough. They appear there daily, never allowing the bean to escape my acknowledgment.

Yes bean, you've served me well. Your epic descent from the misty mountains was not in vain, nor was your time gathering the potential energy I'm so desperately dependent on. Once I've used up your essence, you will still live on to fertilize future sprouts of organic greens. The dynamics you display are seemingly endless, the effects linger on me for hours. With that said, I thank you bean.

As I rush to the commode, I realize just how long the effects linger. I have a unrelenting urge to defecate and I'm held hostage on the smallest room in the house. The time spent as a P.O.W. leaves me pondering these thoughts I'm now typing. My own seeds of potential energy being poorly processed and filtered, it's come full circle.

My mental spotlight is now pointed at the journey of the plant fibers I wrap around my hand. They once filled the air with oxygen and now their service to mankind has taken a shitty turn.
The same goes for this train(wreck) of thought...

As I look in the mirror while washing, I notice a coffee grind caught betwixt my two front teeth. Thanks again bean.