The following poem has been re-printed from the Ancient Paths archives. It was originally published in the printed literary magazine, Issue 6 (Spring 2001).
My Cup Runneth Over by Thandi
The Grail runneth over before our eyes onto our blistered souls
If not for blindness we would not thirst nor fear the greatness in our hands
We would recognize the head of God bent down to soothe our weary feet
We would view the puddles on our laps as more than circumstance