I walked mindfully in the warm embrace of afternoon Autumn light. One after another I slipped a motley crew of grapes past my lips and into my mouth.

Only tongue and teeth and seconds to press. To ferment each grape into a wine-sweet moment. His flesh is their flesh is my flesh. His blood is their blood is my blood.

Filled to the brim by his Holy Sacrament, I knew Ecstasy on a random Friday in an Illinois September. I laughed out loud. The young man passing by gave me a peculiar look. He kept on. I kept on. I stared into his eyes laughing, eating the flesh and drinking the blood of a God.

Dionysos Ekstatophoros (Bringer of Ecstasy), be praised.



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