Distill me now, down to that final drop,
Where all my sins and virtues are combined.
Purge me with fire, reduce, reduce my soul,
My life, existence, being, faults, and flaws,
Down to a taste point where I then become,
Too sweet, too sour, too rich, too plain,
To tempt the jaded tongue within your mouth.
For though each soul unique is in profile.
Not all are fit to stain another’s lips.
Such vast complexity would you take,
Forgetting all the life and journey there,
Instead to retch at just one salty part,
And in the doing stand to loose the vintage.


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