Abundance Poem by Mark Heathcote

Let me drink this vat house dry,
prolong my agony, and kiss me.
As far as the sunset can shine,
loves-a-kind-of-tutelage; it's faith
it's something we all have in abundance
it's a reservoir we dam only to break.
Who but I could laugh so loud and weep?
Who but I could fill a brackish lake
float-on-high, amidst the stars
without so much as a tear more to cry,
and then row ashore only to die.
Near-empty full of torment, thirst and rage
I guess that's why there are so few
poets now who know the meaning of
what it is to be a 21st-century sage
let loose out of their industrial glass cage.