The Everlasting Cup of Love
A poem
A poem
We carry our love like a cup of water,
spilling over the edges
but never empty,
never dry.
We hoist this sacred vessel high,
cradling it with reverence, with care.
Its contents, a precious elixir,
threaten to overflow, to cascade down
our arms, our hands, our very being.
Yet somehow, this cup never empties,
its wellspring an eternal, inexhaustible font.
No matter how much we pour out,
how freely we give of this liquid gold,
the vessel remains steadfastly full.
It sloshes and slips, threatening to spill,
to drench us in the boundless wealth of emotion,
but we refuse to set it down, to abandon
this overflowing receptacle of our affection.
For to relinquish this cup, this conduit of love,
would be to risk its drying up, its running dry,
and so we clutch it close, weathering the sloshing,
the occasional droplets that escape our grasp.
In this perpetual, precarious balance,
we find the essence of our devotion distilled,
a love that knows no limits, no thresholds to cross,
a love that sustains us, that can never be spent.
We are the vessels, the humble carriers
of this eternal well of tenderness, of desire,
and as long as we hold fast, never surrendering,
this cup of love shall remain forever brimming.
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