The Well
As a child, I found a well,
In a large grassy meadow.
And I clambered up its rocky sides
So that its secrets I would know.
On that day, I had no thirst,
Merely a child-like curiosity.
Its walls were rough and very steep,
And its bottom I could not see.
Looking around, a stone I found,
And tossed it down the well.
Then I listened for a sound,
To judge how far it fell.
After what seemed a lengthy time,
I heard a muted thud,
Which told me that either the well was dry
Or filled with thick dry mud.
People are dark deep wells
With depths you’ll never know,
And have thoughts you can’t perceive
When words at them you throw.
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