I wanted love to fill my empty cup.
But little did I know the cup was poor.
When love came brimming over, how it broke.

As all my old beliefs and feelings broke,
A brighter Spirit formed a better cup.
And now I see myself no longer poor.

A great desire shows us we are poor,
A hope, a dream, a chance, a cycle broke,
When we accept the willing, filling cup.

Each cup so poor is broke to make us whole.

—
It’s day 24 of NaPoWriMo. This poem is a
Tritina.