I place my empty vessels with the King. Once filled with longing, sentiment and pride, they sated no one’s thirst, though ego tried— sin, disappointment, sorrow, hurt ’t would bring. Knowing devilish poison these contained, reminded old, dead dregs drained from each spout, all sediment’ry visage I poured out of Dionysian wine heartstrings had feigned. Now in God’s presence, as He cleans smeared crocks from motives, meanings, memories of words and clears my mind from myths’ entangling cords, a tale-abating door behind me locks. I’m freed! The Gospel story’s what I’ll tell and offer Living Water from Christ’s well!