Bitter-Sweet

How long I sat before that slender goblet, knowing well that I must sup! How long I sat in wonderment! Fragile was I, and fearful, my lips thirsting for the contact, my will strong, my desire beckoning me. Yet before me was the wine untouched, and I shrank, fearful that I lay my lips upon its brim.
And the hot winds rose and enwrapped me, and my tongue was parched and my thirst was sore, and the goblet was before me. And the wrath of the winds became more, and the heart of rebellion descended and seared me, And in a fearful moment when the lightnings split the heavens asunder, lo, did I tremulously lay my hand upon the slender stem and with prayer-
holied lips drank, drank to the very dregs.
And the bitterness! Ah, the bitterness clave unto my tongue! Yet I was uplifted, exalted with a new strength; I forgot my thirst, yea, and looked upon the empty goblet in wonderment. That was yesterday, yea, only yesterday, and today, remembering the bitterness, I lift my glass
anew and drink sweet wine. A troth to the sup of yesterday, whose bitterness steeped my
soul in honey!