—a divine mistake, a sacred mess that never made it to your lips
It slipped, it fell, a darkened flood,
A gospel lost in kitchen mud.
The scent was holy, steam was bright,
A halo shattered in the light.
You reached too fast, your hands betrayed,
The altar cracked, the prayer decayed.
The counter wept, the tiles confessed,
You watched the stain, you felt possessed.
The smell was sweet, the loss obscene,
A small disaster, still routine.
You wiped it up, you whispered low,
Forgive me, cup! I didn’t know.
No faith remains, no taste to keep.
Salvation spills, and floors still weep.
📜 Spilled Salvation – The Recipe
Ingredients:
- 8 oz Fresh Brewed Coffee (the promise)
- 1 careless hand (the fall)
- Garnish: None—divinity doesn’t stain well
Instructions:
Brew your finest cup. Reach for it mid-thought, let it slip. Watch it spread across the floor. Hot, fragrant, wasted grace. Clean it slowly, reverently. That’s the only ritual that matters.