A Poem

The Cup and The Wine

hallow and empty.

sticky and hairy.

all foul smells and sour tastes.

dark and grim. Can this come from within?

a cave is down there. It’s full of shadows. It’s damp.

come up, to what light? hypocrisy and ill conradictions.

I feel circles, so many circles. they spin over too fast. too fast.

the noise is only noise, volumizing our inside :tensions: depressions: lost intentions:

I raise my voice, but I stop no echo. It continues to ripple for generations.

God knows. He always knows.

I’ll seek silence like a peregrine after prey.

I’ll lose track of time, and

You’ll be the Cup and the Wine.