Dregs Have Flown

Red wine like warm blood flowed from our glasses. Invigorating finely tuned senses where race inherited memory reclined. Taste on titillated etherized tongues has tang exploiting grape crushed peel sweet wine courting chilled flute melodies dance expunging former mire. Sunset red pink rose purple blooming across arching horizon night an ink black vesper veil dried over coagulated rusted wounds. Life transposes in transubstantiation transitions rendering real time lost archaic reality. Changing perceived natural chaotic order into radiant wine born illusive illusory lulled time. Red wine like copious blood flowed from our drinking cups like blood a rejuvenating nectar. Bacchus life burned within veins. In symposium enchanted Bacchus dew unshackles burdensome inescapable narrow banded male lives. Personalities yield to ecstatic natural forces Bacchantes dance in frenzy raptured moonlight. Ivy-crowned and joyous draped, dance Bacchantes dance escape within Bacchic frenzy fever; of ecstasies deepest mystery. Flame eternal runs in the veins of adorated Bacchus fermented juices stain not his matchless divine radiance. See also the poem ‘Bacchus’. Copyright © Terence George Craddock