Single Malt

Like this empty bottle of 17 year old Glenlivet,
my body is now without purpose or meaning.
The empty flesh serves to provide memories
of what was, reminders of the stubborn past.

The pure mountain waters taken at sunset
and gathered like raw diamonds gleaming
to be used and then returned to gray seas
leaving distillers purposeless again at last.

I wait for the Master Distiller's act to upset
Great Balance by routing oceans' teaming
once more into empty shells that, like keys
to Life's endless renewal, lie ready and vast.