The sun in rising,
Decants a destiny down,
Splashing redly,
Replete with meaning. A
Full-bodied fate fills
My ill-chosen flask; some last
Splashes and then, o'erfilled,
Leaves my cuff hanging limp,
Leaking, staining
Crimson the wrist
And the flask-filled hand.
So, anointed into the
Weird now appointed me,
A flash of the past pierces,
A gash not mine
Appears and a sight
Opaque to eyes reminds.
Time folds His fingers
'Tween mine in that
Special way so
That, overlaid, we share
The impaling nail
And the vision is,
Once emptied, whisked
Away but, again, I
Must stay.
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