The Well of Life

The gated wall they stood before No timber seemed awake to them; no splinter stirred amidst the wood, the nails now rusty in their beds, where once brave Knights had deftly trod on mounted horses, all bejewelled. True Knights and Barons who heralded The Cause. That narrowest of narrow paths, Where only the Truest traveller knows The healing waters for his love sick heart Lay hidden deep within the Well, and who would ever know its source? For in disguise it lay vast and deep, covered in thickets where Lion’s prowl Only the footsore brave seek its song The song of sweetest melody and in every chord a different balm; to heal, to bind, to nourish and to love but so faint on the wind is the song - you would ne’er hear it - even if you strained; wooed by the sound of The Maker, and only seen by the eyes of the heart, echoing in fathomless depths. The beauteous sound of the waters brings healing to his love sick heart, and trusses of red blossoms spring forth And with a sweet pure melodic fragrance, it bursts into a myriad of colours, Leading him in a dance, singing the sweet sweet melody, and as he sings, the waters of the Well gush forth and he within the waters is reborn.