It is an empty glass that I ponder now. Do I rise to fill it? Or do I wait to be served by another and in doing so will I have choice in what is to be poured into my vessel? Will it be warm or cool to the touch as I sip? Will I be compelled to gulp at it as if to quench an unquenchable thirst or approach it in haste just to get it down? Will I allow for time to savor its qualities or discover if indeed it is a match for what I need to support my being in the now? Can every moment from brewing decision to the gravity of pouring allow for delight? Will the steam rising in dance, changing its state from fluidity to join the limitless ethers be appreciated in full from start to finish? Will aroma spark memories into life and if so, will I cherish the experience or lament the passing of things? Will I still be empty when I am through or full to the brim with satisfaction? And I wonder … Will there be anything left when I am done?