I do not know if all is well in the depths of the well that inside of me does dwell.
A Pyrrhic victory, over my spirit did quell.
The origins of feeling, where one does draw from deep,
Echoes, that resonating void into where there is not return for he who leaps.
A spring oasis to water upon the mind, oh to fill again this reservoir of thought, if only to remind, to raise the words kind, to open mine eyes so not to be blind.
Now an empty hole,
once did overflow with sweet words of love, rising from the soul.
Surely it can fill again, pain to mend, held by friends, their own sweet water to me they send. Tho thirst has parched the man, this shall not be his end.
DENNY DUCET