The trickle of unconsciousness

filled the tin cup.

I couldn’t handle the half empty

of hope and a future.

I drank and drank to quench

the mystery of the largess of God.

But God had salted the water

and assaulted my soul with an eternal thirst.

He held out his hand

and I set the dented tin

over the scar imbedded

in His lifeline.

He poured into my eyes,

right through and down

to the bottom of my arid heart.

This Tin-man echo of mine.

“Here, take, drink of this cup

In remembrance of Me.”

The chalice, cool in my grasp,

brimmed with blood red wine.

A sip of God consciousness.

“Do this in remembrance of me.” Jesus