The illusion of sobriety
prevails
as we roam the world

Enclosed
beneath masks
we can only glimpse
the circles
that enfold us

Our centers remain
closed
to the sweet,
heady wine
that awaits

we travel alone

As time holds
our pungent tears

in a crystal
chalice

a prism seeking
sunshine

yearning for life's
brief
silky
blossoms

when no blossoms
appear

the chalice
overflows
and
sheds
our
tears