The China Shop Keeper
Written by Eldrex Delos Reyes Bula
You run a shop of precious things,
afraid of what a stumble brings.
One crack, one chip, a tiny break,
and that becomes your worst mistake.
You polish every surface clean.
You punish what you've never seen—
the hands that tremble, reach, and try,
then hang their heads when you walk by.
You built a museum of shame,
with every dusty, unnamed name.
They tiptoe past your guarded stare,
afraid to breathe the borrowed air.
But tell me, keeper of the shelf,
have you dropped nothing, nothing, yourself?
Or is the floor you walk upon
a careful lie you've built upon?
The cups you guard, the perfect plates,
are not the things that carry weight.
It's mended bowls with golden seams
that hold the soup of honest dreams.
So go ahead, point out the crack.
The one you're pointing at points back.
A shop of unheld, unused things
is not a home. It's just a king
afraid of what a broken bowl
might teach about becoming whole.