The Grail

This brimming cup of self I carry
strangely but with joy is full of
light and glancing water, trapped
stars arrayed in gold and white
and living in the liquid firing
all my power and might of being
gathered there and stored for
use.  This plenitude I am
is infinity and the light
is growing stronger in these
waves as if I would
foregather all the turbulence
of self and fling at some
far target, aimed and
fired, to bestow my gleaming
water there -
the place of need the
most god-given good.  I am
selfhood personified, the
water in his hand, my brimming
cup stands on the table, holy,
amassed, and waiting to be
Collected Works
Return to Collections all
next poem