You were unskilled, wasteful metal
Then his quiver came, nurturing
and sharpening you,
from within.

Now, you are
in his golden bow.

You have become a sharpshooting
silver arrow in God’s golden bow.

You were the drowsy-wine in worry,
de trop of the festivals of the naivetes


Now, you’ve become the passion
inside the golden goblets of Kings

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