Ah beloved
You punish me
With your martyrdom

The golden cup
Even so in which
We mix our memories

The pain we have caused
The pain we have suffered
The joys we happen upon

We lack language
To express
Our persistence

Why we remain
Or is it
Mere inertia

We are old
Dear beloved
Old and ignorant

A tulip tree
Vessel of peace
With three trunks

We could
Have chosen otherwise
The choice remains

And yet and yet
Daily we renew
Even on bad days

Daily we charge
Without a thought
The golden cup