The Kitchen Table's Sacred Geometry

The kitchen table, scarred and deeply worn,
The true heart's center, where all life converges.
From early morning, to the fading morn,
A sacred space, where every spirit surges.

It felt the weight of elbows, leaned and deep,
The hurried clatter of the morning meal,
The whispered dreams, that secrets it would keep,
And quiet moments, making futures real.

The surface holds the imprints, soft and vast,
Of countless hands that shared a common bread,
The silent promises, designed to truly last,
And every tender, loving word that's said.

It saw the laughter, vibrant, clear, and loud,
The heated arguments, then peace restored,
The homework struggles, 'neath a thoughtful shroud,
And every triumph, silently adored.

It bore the marks of spills, the gentle etch,
Of cups and plates, a history so clear,
A silent witness, reaching out to fetch,
The very essence of what's cherished here.

This kitchen table, altar of daily life,
A testament to its profoundest role,
Through joy and sorrow, banishing all strife,
Making the fragmented spirit truly whole.

It symbolizes home, a deep, abiding grace,
A timeless comfort, in its steady glow,
The very essence of this cherished place,
Where love and solace endlessly will flow.

- Khushi Kaul