"Text, reading and photographs by Robert Towe"

The Chalice

There stands before us here, in the Spirit,
poured full and clear, a deep and silver Chalice---
magnificent elegance, simple humility
hammered from the purest ore, mined before
the Beginning of time
in the deep and secret mines of God.

The ancient Chalice stands serene, filled to its brim
dark crimson vintage brimming Light,
inexpressible fragrance---the sweetest grapes
ever grown, torn down and crushed
by the hands and feet of man---
the dearest Martyr’s blood, poured out
on the ground, in the vineyards
of a watching God.

And with the divine Wine of perfect Love
“drawn from Immanuel’s veins”, we are served
a plate of simple Bread.
Its broken pieces hold the earthy taste
of sacred grain, threshed and ground,
kneaded and risen into that One Life,
given for us all.

Earnestly He pleaded---great drops of blood---
and yet, that dreaded cup did not pass by.
Instead, He took and drank the poison down
for us, spitting out its bitter dregs of myrrh.
And thus the holy Bread was broken,
torn open for the likes of us to feed.

Now we are freely served this simple sup,
these token crumbs that cost God everything.
So, as He asked, let us remember Him
Who lives beyond Time, with this
daily remembrance:

to live our lives as He lived His---
like a gift, like broken bread, like poured out wine.