I wrote a poem
as I was falling down a well
the poem served me well.
The lines were hammered
like bolts into the walls
To mark the progress
of my fall.
Flowers were thrown, blown
down around me.
blazing blooms, they were
The water would rise as on a wave
to quench the thirst of all who gave.
The blooms they floated up again
and I fell down upon the receding water.
There was a cavern beneath the well
The water trickled, deep away
I stood in the cavern, glinting through
a chink of light
as the water drained below me.
I gazed up the steep stone walls
saw the bolts that marked my fall
I thought I could climb up again
but rather wanted nothing more
than to see them disappear.
to chisel them away
those bolts that marked my fall.
but the flowers kept raining down.
it was distraction enough and I
the dark-bright waters
rising with me.