The Cup Itself — Liva

First warm day of the year
The harbour is full of skin and laughter
Bodies climbing in, coming up alive
With water in their hair

I'm sitting on the wooden edge
My feet just under, cold against the harbour
The sun is warm across my shoulders
Two truths at once, against my skin

One pair laughing loud, all teeth and sound
Another scrolling, not a word between them
And one old couple, legs against each other
Saying nothing, somehow full

Someone near me lifts a glass of water
The light bends through it onto the wood
Half full, or half empty — I have heard both sides
All week long, I'm tired of the question

Everyone's eyes on what's inside it
Counting drops they think they've lost or found
But the answer was never in the water
It was always in the cup that holds it up

They argue half full, they argue half empty
But they're all just staring at the water
Look at the glass — that's where the real value lives
That's how much you have to fill back up

I lift my feet, let the sun take the water
Sit a moment longer, just to breathe
Then I find my bike along the railing
And I push off slow, into the afternoon

I'm thinking still about that glass
About the couples and the stillness in their hands
About the difference between loud and full
And how we've all been measuring it wrong

We watch the water rise, we watch it fall
We call ourselves the hopeful or the wise
But neither of us looks at what we're holding
That's where the real measurement lies

They argue half full, they argue half empty
But they're all just staring at the water
Look at the glass — that's where the real value lives
That's how much you can carry, how much you can hold

And I'll admit it — I've done the same
Counted what I'd lost, counted what I'd been given
Spent so many years measuring the water
That I forgot to look at what was holding me

So I'm riding out to meet a friend
With a question I should have asked before
Not how much is left, not how much is gone
But how much I can hold — and maybe a little more

They argue half full, they argue half empty
But they're all just staring at the water
I'm looking at the glass — that's where my value lives
That's how much I have to fill back up

She's already at the table
Bread and olives, two clean glasses
The sun across the harbour
And the glass — for now — held high