The clay pot sitting peacefully on top of a stone stove giving the rain water a spot to rest, a spark flies from nowhere to light a small fire.
Under the pot the leaves are dry while the rest lay around soaked by the morning fall, thus the clay pot gives shelter to the fire and thus allows it to flower.
For the one watching it would seem the flame gently touching the bottom of the pot, and heating the water that rest inside to steam that rises free.
In truth the fire is bashing the earthy clay trying to find a way through to burn free and wild, while the water inside prefers to rest than to be free.
The flame flickering red and blue tries as hard as it could to burn through, manages only to send its heat through to teach the clay pot a lesson or two.
Her body blackens and skin tightens the clay reaches its limit to bear heat, so passes it on to the water it bears.
The flame blames her for forbidding its freedom and the water blames her for letting it free, but neither comes to know the truth.
The clay pot can’t move on its own sit helpless on the stone stove neither selfish nor a blabber, takes all the blames with no rue thus prevents a quarrel between the two.
The fire burns out and the water vapours off, both blaming the clay pot for her deed who helped them out in need.
The clay pot sits still in its place for ages helping others in need and maintaining peace, expecting nothing in return for her generous deeds.