The Well

a well sits
in waiting,
for nothing
for everything;
no hands
no eyes
no feet

there is no place to go

but within.
with eyes closed.
she waits
and listens
to the sound
of rain clouds
gathering
in another corner
of the world.

they are not here.
they may never come.
or perhaps they will.
it does not matter.

she rests
in herself
with herself.
her waters full
and fresh,
for those who care
to come
and look in.
and for those
who look away
or go in search
of a river
or an oasis,
she waits,
held in a spell
of timelessness,
smiling with joy
knowing they will find
water -
whether in a river
or in a well
or in tears
they choose
or not.
it simply does not matter.