Godstilla

You should’ve seen the size of it

A beast of a pot still that dominated the distillery

All retorts and alembic filters flexing muscle

The swan necks were so elegant 

It was like the thing was engineered by nature

The surface shimmering gold

As if plucked from the pages of some wonderful steampunk novel

More bombastic and beautiful than any religious icon

A symbol for worshipping at the altar of distillation

Creativity in machine form

Powerful, precise, precious

Harnessing the spirit of making smooth spirits

It’s a story I’ll be passing down through the generations

As much to preserve history 

As to remember what that still inspired within me that day

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