Old Bottles


Dragging thoughts out

into the light

watching them thrive,

or languish,

or turn to smoke.

Just a joke,

or a lie.


No radiance

without patience.

No purpose

without resistance.

Just an aimless ride,

the meter running the whole time.


Escaping out

through cracks in the façade.

Truth exudes

from the very eyes of God.

Prayers fly from lips,

like a thousand doves at once

and no one knows

what love is

without feeling irrelevant.


Letting it go

is the only way

to free your soul.

What is it

you’re really holding on to?

A vessel

cannot be filled

with something good

if it is

already full

of shit.


Pour it all out.

Let the rain come down,

clean and new

and you look around

to find

something good

to fill yourself.

Old bottles

hold their value.

No better vessel.

It’s okay

to be filled up again.



HG – 2022

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