![fjsjs.jpg](https://images.hive.blog/DQmNfRte7qoKKD8aGnsJWi3cbYEqr3RzF3PXBnGCg6d5F13/fjsjs.jpg) My day began very early with that cup of black coffee that’s always there and never fails to appear, since in the morning coffee has a different aroma and tastes very different too. I stepped outside, and the sun was just rising, so the light filtered in timidly, almost as if asking permission, and everything seemed to be going very well, since the sky was completely clear. The steam from the coffee rises slowly, like a thought about what the whole day will be like. Every sip gives that energy so that everything goes well at that hour, starting with ideas, plans, and even the mistakes not yet made. The cup is full, untouched, just like the day that is beginning. ![image.png](https://images.hive.blog/DQmWMBep6qX7LC9eSw7L4HeEzyzWkSyjCb492BKYus6MSct/image.png) I had another cup of coffee at noon—this is a new habit, since I feel that at that hour everything is very different and the scene shifts without asking permission. The light is no longer soft; now it falls directly, revealing the chaos of midday—stress, work, and unfinished words, attempts that came to nothing—but there’s still the whole afternoon ahead. At this hour, the coffee is much darker, denser, as if it had absorbed the weight of the hours, but in reality it is the drink that wakes me up and recharges my energy, where the cup is still there, but no longer promises: it accompanies the one who is missing. ![image.png](https://images.hive.blog/DQmVAFsAAqNdyTgZRCUPDzM1gtD8DHLDWu2fNoYTS11eroJ/image.png) I continue my work posting on Hive, go out, and return home as evening falls—or perhaps night has already set in—where the hours fly by, masked by fatigue. Here, something unique takes shape and shadows appear; I hold the same cup, since it’s my favorite, but the coffee isn’t the same as before. I sit down, and with the last sip of coffee, I realize that the day is finally over and it’s already night. The cup feels heavier—not because of what it holds, but because of what it no longer does. ![image.png](https://images.hive.blog/DQmbNttzjysvQwuu1LiRjPef5KQcW43dMZmKwhN9n2cupF1/image.png) This is a clear example of what my day is like, and as time goes by each day, the coffee cup remains there—silent, giving no warning—only the light changes, the coffee cools, and the shadows shift. And without realizing it, you find yourself sipping away the day from that same coffee cup; that’s why, if you let the coffee get cold, your life can grow cold too.

![pngwing.com 3.png](https://images.hive.blog/DQmPvWeswjaMnCtt69QxnpZHm1una1iw2HUxZJpGBgEY2RH/pngwing.com%203.png) **All photos are my property.** ![pngwing.com 3.png](https://images.hive.blog/DQmPvWeswjaMnCtt69QxnpZHm1una1iw2HUxZJpGBgEY2RH/pngwing.com%203.png) ![image.png](https://images.hive.blog/DQmSPQ8wPzijdukgew6piH1oCnU4NbMWCaiUAXqcvQYgVxr/image.png) Posted Using [INLEO](https://inleo.io/@davidpena21/same-cup-but-a-different-moment-enq)

God in a cup