It is a wholesome reminder of the fatal ease with which a Sacrament may be profaned and prostituted.
– Aleister Crowley, The Book of Thoth
when the rain falls they long to capture it all
buckets and cups they place quite strategically
not to drink but to preserve their passing desires
hoping to entomb the life that blooms and expires
for if they drink, the water will return to the earth
for if they drink not, the water will return to the air
What wave have you seen within their shallow wells?
In what cups has the moon conjured her wild swells?
so they fill themselves with their glory and their fame,
money, lusts, devil’s serpents, manors, bonding chains,
cups that fill without needing random cloud’s releasing
distant, dark, sadly detached from nature’s river streaming