Friday, January 20, 2012


'Dirty wine glass' photo (c) 2004, Quinn Dombrowski - license:

A glass,
The remnants of what it contained
Clinging to the sides, 
The bottom.

You cast off the glory of Heaven,
Yet people could see traces of it in you.
Echoes of eternity
Held in one man.

To scrape out that kingly quality
That they glimpsed at in you,
And force it into a crown.
Something that fit their vision
Of what their savior should be.

But you withdrew,
Waiting for the time
When you would empty yourself further.
Empty of your blood,
Your sweat,
Your life.

So that one day,
This stained, chipped, dirty glass


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