### Part I: The Kernel (The Inhale)
A wisp of scent,
Of pine and rain.
A ghost of smoke,
A neural lane.
### Part II: The First Unfolding (The Steam)
A wisp of scent, of pine and rain:
The water meets the leaves’ embrace.
A swirling, steaming, green-hued space.
The porcelain warms beneath my face.
I am here, in this quiet place.
A ghost of smoke, a neural lane:
It curls and climbs, a spectral thread.
It leads me from the light ahead,
To pathways in my heart instead.
A silent, sacred prayer is said.
### Part III: The Second Unfolding (The Memory)
The water meets the leaves’ embrace,
But it’s his hands I see, not mine.
A different porch, a different time.
The same slow, steeply, steeply climb
Of brewing some cheap, potent thyme.
He showed me how to hold the chime.
It leads me from the light ahead,
Back to the chatter and the din.
The rusty tin roof, caving in.
The world was small, contained within
The wisdom that he’d begin:
“This steam,” he’d say, with a giant’s grin,
“Holds all the places it’s been.”
### Part IV: The Convergence (The Exhale)
The porcelain cools within my hand.
I understand.
I understand.
The wisp of scent was not a ghost,
But just a bridge from coast to coast.
A thread that weaves through time the most.
He is the smoke, and I’m the tea,
Infused with what he gave to me.
In this quiet space, I clearly see:
The ceremony’s not just a brew,
It’s a fragrant memory of you.
And every steep makes my soul anew.
### Part V: The Coda (The Scent Fades)
A wisp of scent.
A neural lane.
It blooms again.
And blooms again.
