You are this bottomless well
Projected onto faces and figures and dreams
Visible only by approach, but
Approached always, in reproach of means
A pebble dropped – thud, thud, thud
Is but a measure of what you’re thinking of
Paralleled by the rejected scoff;
The notion that you are as you seem
With more water, perhaps this well will reach the top
And with it all contained illusions stop
No comments:
Post a Comment