The Universe Wears a Tiny Bell

the universe wears a tiny bell jingling with every small motion as the kettle whistle sputters loosely remembering a tune too faded to formally present in this era of modern convenience i should expect a digital manifestation but the analog steam only whispers away sizzling as condensation drips onto the electric stovetop torn paper once protector of a single teabag collapses violently inside my fist my eyes contemplating waste connect with the universe staring into me i cannot look away opening my fist the paper falls the active universe transforms all meaning this moment is joy the waste becomes whimsy the jingling bell announces each successive epiphany