The fountain of joy

The fountain no longer springs,
The throat drinks,
But the thirst remains unquenched,
The picture no longer paints itself,
Thoughts remain barren. Empty.

Where is the sun that never set?
The moon that lingered silently?
The waters that flew gently?
Where is the coolness of the dewdrops?
Under my bare feet?

The grass looks wet, but I don’t feel it.
There are stars in the sky, but I don’t see them.
There is a gaping hole, where water once played a gushing role,
The wind is on my face, or is it?

Delve, delve deeper, a little voice said,
Faint, feeble, yet incessant,
Insisting, running over and over again!
But where do I delve, will someone tell me?

A hand is clutching at my heart,
Squeezing it for all its worth,
But not a drop of blood.
The pain is excruciating,
But not a tear drop.

Will shutting my eyes help to shut out the desert?
It is creeping, crowding me in, suffocating me.

The flutter of lashes,
A whirl, freefall,
I recognize the fountainless gaping hole,
And see a new cold darkness,
The desert is receding,
But what is that sound, a roar?

Coolness on my cheeks,
Moistness in my eyes,
The wetness between my toes,
The smell of earthy rain,
I feel it, oh yes, I feel it all!


An inkling of a wind now touches,
Murmuring a new vitality in my ears
“To rise you need to fall,
When you fear the fountain has dried,
Remember the roar that fed the stream?
Go to the heart of the roar,
Make its pain, its pleasure, your own,
Dip yourself in the coolness of the stream,
And watch the fountain rise,
Rise. Rise. Rise.”

A smile is touching my lips,
My mind is yet again painting a new picture.
Yes, I will drink of this fountain of joy,
Confident of the sea that gushes in me.