Inky dark oil swirling in a glass vial
Cast it to the floor
Yet its dark stain dries inside

A crystal mind swirling in disarray
Valued thoughts slipping through fingers
And clattering to the floor

How can one combat the defiler
Without destroying the vessel
An exorcism of the fragile heart

The lucid liquid, prime hand of creation
Clear in body and soul
Laving and pushing the filth to the rim

As the ascendece purges the obscenity
The vial is made clean
But as it does, the vile encroaches

As its stagnation breaks, it lashes out
The caustic fumes gains pungence
As the spiteful native overflows

A sigh of relief as the purge is complete
Fulfillment is at last relished
While the dregs of dark history
Become but wisps of vapor
Drifting into the great blue beyond

~Galwyn

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