The well waits open to the sky
a placid barrier below
silent bait for the passersby.

What water patiently poised
would want of the world above
only dreams will ever know.

The meager coins that violate the surface
swallowed by depths of darkness,
are but emissaries of whispered words
that beg of fate a future to bestow.

They gather amongst the sediment
an ancient glittering congress
perpetually pleading the case
for ambitions that died long ago,

lost to the unknown abyss
where light is known only by shadow
and purpose found only in fools.