the pencil poems

Oh mystery!
That the love that cannot be contained
in a million far-flung galaxies,
Should be contained in this cup,
Held against my lips?

Oh mystery!
That when I drain this cup in greediness,
Sinning as I drink;
No sooner as it is empty,
It is filled again?

Oh mystery!
Sift me like flour;
Purge me anew,
Strengthen my knees,
‘Till I drink with you.

Posted on Tuesday, June 21, 2005 at 10:52 AM. :)