Thirst
Author’s own photograph
The seed had been planted many a years ago. It grew strong like weed. Irresistible it made those core beliefs a creed. Words run out and ideas run dry.
I’m thirsty, and I’m next to the well. Pebbles drink the moist; a jealous sun can look and wonder how to attract that shine and glimpse.
The last drop of water, this pure joy.
A reli…