The Writer’s Well

Excavated through the years
From life’s layers of.

Grass, soil, and rocky strata
Plowed and gouged underneath him.

Birth, pain, loss and gain.
Repetition revolved around
Paisley, patterned play.

Formed from phrases of clay
Mingling wishes for water
With words for mortar.

Finding the pool below
A surface dark and cool.
Rippleless, silent, and still
It hides depth’s deception.

Drawing from the bottom black,
Carefully cradling creation
In an iron banded bucket
Slowly lifted by time worn hands.

Hoping to hold each drop
Until it sees the light
And kisses cracked lips
To quench chaotic dreams
For one more hopeful night.

Closing all three eyes
He’ll freely fall once more
Into the arms of slumber’s lover.
Entwined Engulfed. Encircled by
Her, the muse, who fills his well.

© Brandewulf 2018


Originally published at Morality Park Art & Lit Collective.

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