My well is deep and almost full of sadness,
its waters dark, its syrupy contents
attracting ants and flies and other creatures:
some birds and mice that sunk under the surface,
preserved in sugar – feathers, fur and bones,
like little gods, demanding adoration.
The lure so sweet: abandon hope,
abandon disappointment, strife and effort,
become an angel, paragon of virtue,
of feathers so smooth, and white, and silky,
forever undisturbed, forever perfect,
forever still.
Intoxicating poison
of sugar, death and mystery fermented –
the nectar of the gods,
the well of legend
containing waters of eternal youth.
