Wine glass as metaphor

I love stories and poems for the meaning they contain more than for their form, or even for the sound of the language. Here’s one way I envision a poem, or a story, or a song:

A wine glass with a glass bowl cradled by a silver tracery of vines. The tracery consists of the words and the structure of the writing. Beautiful, but not really the point. The glass gives shape to the wine, presents it for our enjoyment, but it isn’t the wine. The point is the golden glowing wine shining out between the tracery and bursting from the top like morning sunlight through the trees. The glass with no wine...just a pretty piece of emptiness.

Not a perfect metaphor; this was just a picture that popped into my mind the other day. The metaphor could go on until all meaning is completely buried in words.