The Well

September 11, 2005

The precious water from the well,
That brings my work to life,
Comes not from me, but from the one,
The source, the power, the light.

I dug the hole, I placed the bricks,
I lower the bucket each day;
The water flows forth easily,
But I have a price to pay.

It brings such joy to know that I
Am doing the master's work.
The water flows out endlessly
Freeing hearts in distant worlds.

Type: Poetry

Share this page on Twitter.