Penned in by my own pen
No current thought will flow
No note I strike will rhyme
and so,
I send to you a ring
A ring that does not chime
A band that plays no tune
And hope it finds you well
Though I no water draw
To moisten my dumb lips
I’ll think of something soon
Since I have lost my words
A sketch I’ll make of you
To gladden my own eye
Telling you the truth
Please know that I still lie
Here beneath a tree
Penned in by my own pen
i have seen this well in the wood, long ago
my dreams are hid in its moss covered walls
treasures I secretly left there before
its slippery sides plunge down to dark depths
where water is constantly dripping
drip, drip, dripping,
into my thoughts
aware of the trees leaning over
dropping their leaves into the pool
hanging over the side,
feeling the coolness,
i drop in a pebble and wait
long falling before an echo
this well is old and deep
The Dreaming Path 