It's Still Life

Liturgy for Pepperbright Canticle (reading time: 1 minute)

I. The Nature of the Spark
Pepperbright Canticle arrives as a glint.
Vivid. Gold-green.
Like sunlight striking a brass bowl
of crushed herbs.

It tastes of citrus heat, wild laughter,
and something faintly medicinal
that refuses to apologise.
It does not ask permission.
It simply is:
truth slipping out sideways,
a confession made
with a mouth full of edible flowers.

II. The Meaning Behind the Laugh
This is not cruelty.
It is clarity dressed as humour,
the gentle art of exposing pretence
without drawing blood.

It governs the truths we blurt
while chewing something
spicy,
sweet,
or unexpectedly floral.

Honest mischief.
Culinary revelation.
Small, necessary chaos.

III. The Temperament of It
Cheeky.
Warm.
Effervescent.

It adores children,
despises snobbery,
and hums in the presence
of unvarnished hearts.

It has no patience for those
who imagine themselves grander
than the room around them.

IV. The Elemental Stuffing
Fire, softened.
Air cut with spice.

It dances in kitchens,
in gardens,
in the breath
between a sneeze
and admission.

Its alchemy is simple:
not to burn, but to wake;
not to scold, but to season.

V. The Crow’s Observation
He watches, eyes bright with approval,
and murmurs:
“Even crows know
the shiniest lies are the most bitter,
but a little pepper,
makes everything worth tasting.”

VI. The Revelation
May your truth be kindness.
May laughter be your blade.
And when the unruly, radiant truth bites,
may you taste
what has always been there.