Emperor's Blood

Emporer's Blood

Emperor's Blood.

The tale of an ancient, almost forgotten, porcelain bowl.

Created in one of the seven ancient capitals of China, between the smoke and mist of five dynasties and ten kingdoms, I have survived many more than that. Of my early travels, the warm sight of the thousands of Srivijaya islands remains with me the most. But, as far as I understand, my true journey is not yet complete.

Of the many hands that touched me in my early youth, there were no softer fingers than those of the Emperor's daughter. Of the many lips I have tasted, those of her mother were the most miraculous. My memories are still as sharp as the broken shards of my brothers and as sparkling as my colors, even sharper it seems at times, after all these years. Different smells, tastes and textures have accompanied me on my path. None of them has stayed behind as a crumb in me.

I was there when feuds slept or were fought out. I was there while people loved and hated. I was forgotten at times when everything collapsed. Dust and dirt always washed off of me, sometimes not until years later. I've been misplaced in places where everyone was welcome. I was at home in places where no one really wanted to be. And all that timeless, because unlike in the eyes of a fool who measures his own decline, time does not exist.

That I have seen the world and have seen it change makes me sad. The suffering that is inflicted is still there, but it is more cunningly packaged. I also have hope, because despite my own unchanging nature, I have learned by being there. I have thought, weighed, accepted and fought. I have become stronger from what has not been able to break me.

And where animals, however wild, have never been able to harm me, unintentionally and thoughtlessly, human hands still instill fear in me. Greedy, unpredictable, passionate and ungrateful. Every moment possible my last if I was admired or used again clumsily. Give me rest in safe hands.

That I have survived so far is a wonder. I console myself with the thought that my blessing and luck have come from the only touches I have truly felt so far. The soft lips of her mother, which often held me just a little longer than necessary, as a kiss, because she already understood my beauty. The soft fingertips of her daughter, reassuring, warm, nothing less than of emperor's blood.