Chalices of legend

jeweled, coveted, rare

pour their contents slowly

into the pungent Earth

Water, ageless yet eternal

waits for the emboldened traveler

Wine, refined by time

is fickle in its wisdom

Blood, precious but reluctant

flows freed from splitting skin

 

The chalices empty, leaving little

within the bronze swept basins

The sun sets, the moon rises,

opal and emerald glint

softly in its illusion

Three seers part ways

Artful embroidery

dragging through

the grasses of separate lands

–they will know when

to meet again