The Wishing Well
Sometimes we dig ourselves too deep
Every word, written and rewritten,
Includes and embodies questions,
The kind of question that can’t be answered
By the norm.
And each of those words,
Though devoid of the stability of realism,
Brings to light new paths to tread,
New ways to see.
Here we are, floating on this forsaken asteroid
On an ocean of twinkling lights,
Shot through the cosmos
Like a misfired bullet:
No true aim or agenda;
More of a mistake than anything else.
And with that knowledge,
What do the skies tell of tomorrow?
What does the paper say?
Superstitions, false hope?
Or is there some meaning
Buried and hidden
Beneath the refuse of a recycled world?
Love;
What worldly force is so resplendent,
So synonymous with the ideals
Of magic, hope, and miracles?
What other star is worth reaching for, dreaming of?
But when you view that sky from the bottom of a well,
All stars look the same.
Who can provide the seed of such a tree
That yields golden bows and silver leaves?
What else lies in wait
In the wake of the Great Unknown?
Such thoughts echo against the stone walls
Of a prison delved efficiently deep,
Entangling themselves in an intricate web
Of emotions and ideas,
Of lies and truths,
Of hope for love
And despair of self loathing,
Waiting to catch,
Or perhaps to be caught.
Where is the hand that can free me
From the place where wishes come to rest?
If I had one last coin to donate
To the prison that surrounds me,
If I even still believed,
If I even dared to dream,
I would wish to swim against the wave,
To fly against the breeze,
To take the hand that fits in my own
And fly together toward a dawn of gold.
No longer alone, I could dare,
And dream,
And hope,
And wish,
And together we could face
The horrors of this life,
Laughing at their truths
As if they were an old inside joke.
I wish I could wish myself out there.
(2006)
