going to the well

go to the well,
find the deeper depths,
mine the wetter waters.
empty vessel is the access.
you’re already there waiting,
now i’m shy to show the emptiness,
yet you ask to use it.

come to the well,
a reminder i’m in need,
dry and thirsty once more,
an acceptance i’m not a source,
and now gently introduced to one.

go to the fountain,
living, bottomless,
pressed down, flowing over.
acquainted with my grief,
no stranger to suffering.
the sweetest drop, most potent,
when it hits the driest spot,
saturated in the exact place,
you know i’m desperately not.

come to the fountain,
where the hungry and thirsty are happy,
satisfied by the company at the well,
the table.
filled to the measure of fullness,
to hunger and thirst no more.
until the heat of the day,
when hunger and thirst from within,
draw to the well and table again.

go to the table,
there’s a reservation with my name on it,
an appointment on my behalf.
longing then changes, shapes, compels.
this hunger changes the taste,
this thirst changes the saltiness.
a palate tells what it needs.
once tasted what it’s made for,
the cravings can be trusted.
the cravings again are calibrated.
the salt is sweet,
when more salt is needed.

come to the table,
for hunger and thirst tell a story,
and yearn for more to unfold.
they’re proximity gauges,
they’re presence invitations.
care is served at the table,
comfort is pulled from the well.
pregnant fullness going forth,
meets the empty vacuum drawing in.
filled by the pouring out,
satisfied by the breaking.

this hunger, this thirst
ever before me.
this same body that hurts,
also hurt yours.
this same body that breathes,
longs to be breathed by yours.
this longing you long to see,
you delight to delight me there,
to see delight in me,
at the well, at the table,
we'll taste and see.

oh bread of life,
satisfy my appetite once more.
you, living water,
teach me what thirst is.
meet me here ever deeper.
my fountain, come to my well.
my feast, sit at my table.
linger here until...
once again, it is well.