Is the cup you hold anymore than mine because it's you that holds it?
Is the answer unspoken because it's true and how is it that I am less than you?
If mine were diamonds and emeralds and pearls and yours no more than lead,
Would mine still be the cup and yours still be the chalice?
I sing not from an envious chair in looks upon your throne,
But I seek to know your nature child if you should be the one.
If the earth I tread is barren land but for you the roses are kept at hand
I seek to know why this should be, why is it you are more than me?
If I were to hold your glass of wine and you were to partake of this one, mine,
Which would be the chalice and which would be the flask? This is all I wish to ask.
And once returned would their names remain, or at once again be changed as then?
What is the power within your touch that draws a chalice from a cup?
Can you touch a horse and thereby create a steed,
Or raise a tree to touch the heavens from a dwarfed forsaken seed?
In every note do you hear a song, or is it Apollos love for you that makes days long.
Can you walk the surface of this pond and thus create a sea?
Or did you create the heavens or cause this world to be?
Can you touch a thing of lead and have it turn to gold?
Does your touch renew the youth of those that have grown old?
Are you empowered to tilt your head and change which direction's up?
Again I ask why you hold a chalice whilst I must hold a cup.
