Am I a chalice?
Is that who I am?
Glory and love pour out
Til droplets on the rim are all that is left
Some would wipe it clean
We shall not thank such a chalice
And what of its source?
Where does the thought lie?
Why are some tongues still dry after drinking more than they could take?
Why does the chalice stay like this?
Where is it making its new wine to fill and give and break once more?