The Gods' Cantina Poem by Tsani Jones

You came to visit me in the
Place where I abide, my home,
As a divine guest, a dignitary,
Honored and respected.
I treated you as such.

I offered what I had,
Which is not much, for
I have no fruity things,
No fluids inked by a bean,
Even gifts from my animal friends,
Only water.

You heartily accepted,
And I bring you the cup,
One moment full, one
Moment empty, refilled,
Drained, again containing.

We talk, times of the day,
Current events, popular people,
But our words are just vehicles,
For our discussion has nothing to
Do with time, since neither do we.

What is time to a deity that
Is eternal, rather than everlasting?
Making water was not my job,
Dispensing it was. You drink, for it is
Not your job to dispense it, but to drink.

When I visit you, in your Temple,
You shall dispense to me,
Between your times of creating
Water for others, and Making,
For me to dispense to others.

In your Temple, you are the host,
The honorable, Magnificent one,
And your glory lights all you survey;
It does my heart good to see it,
So it is, conversely, and similarly, in my realm.

I say, 'How was your day? '
You answer, 'A thousand years, '
And we smile, timeless,
For love, respect, caring
Transcend the tick of clocks,
And the lie of language.