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Prophet's Well

This is an expansion on an earlier poem I wrote in another post.

Inside this dank and hollow place
A bitter wake of pain doth shift
The mortar of their courage loose
The bricks of every cherished past

Beset by every deaf’ning wind
That whispers failures in their ears
The voice that seemed to speak of grace
Reduced to never speak at all

But still I think, believe, resolve,
Commit to stay, possess my ground
For in this open place of mine,
The frightened shine, adorn and found

The stones, the stones, the stones they hear
Those cold, unfeeling rocks below
Will take the pauper from his fear
And light the craven dark aglow

Broken stones say more than me
They moan in speech that’s slurred;
But read me, take me in your thoughts
And know that I was heard.

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