It’s invisible then, the sugar,
after it’s stirred in the jar.
No one would know it is there—
it looks to be only water.
But sweet it is, nonetheless,
a secret, a transparent rhyme,
a hidden pleasantness,
a shrine to the unseen.
You are my sugar,
the fuel that no one sees,
but I know, as the water knows,
what a gift it is to receive.