Grapes, berries, plums, lemons, oranges, water and ice.
v Squeeze oranges and lemons.
v Blend grapes, berries and plums.
v Pour into a blender with ice and blend it all together.
Best served cold.
Broken, shrivel, chipped off around the edges, shrinking by the hour.
Brownish and draining of blood.
Leaking and trickling down its entrance.
v Squeezed into the cold juice,
v blended together with more ice,
Served for a meal of on: Made with desperation, helplessness, tears, searching, longing, emptiness, flickering hope, staggering beam of faith, my limping belief.
And most of all my last lifeline.
The knowledge that I can’t go on like this, refusal to settle for this, and the feeling that more has to exist spurs me on.
On the path of offering what I have left on this broken platter of Wood.
My mind, spirit, body and soul; including side dishes of my thoughts, actions and motives.
Dessert is a specialty of mine, a mix blend of my heart and its fruits. Brought to the feet of the master, laid down for my last resort, believing that only YOU can fill the vacancy in my chest and cause my heart to beat again.