The Fount of Immortality
I wandered from
The oceans of the east
To the oceans of the west,
Wading streams and rivers
Dripping in mud.
A myriad of creatures swam past my ankles
And calves and thighs,
My hips and my stomach,
Some snapping at the vulnerable
Hollows of my skin,
Others intent on their own path
And yet others of such exquisite beauty
That I myself stopped, mid-wading, to
Gawk at their rainbow hues.
And so I wandered,
the entire worth of my being
in a sack on my back
and my rags disintegrating one
and, I sipped here,
and I sipped there, and
I asked every child and woman and man,
Every aged wanderer who crossed my path
Of the fount of
And some said look here
And others said look there
And yet none could truly give me
An answer of any worth.
And after long ages of my search
I sat upon a barren rock in the wilderness,
Alone as far as the skies extended.
And in my despair,
Saltwater flowed from my eyes
And I sighed in my grief and my futility
And threw from me my seeker’s cloak
And bare as the rock upon which I sat
I wearied with existence itself.
And as we parted ways, existence and I,
There was a great surging in my
Heart of hearts,
The rush and tumbling and madness,
The roaring of a
Like and unlike anything that had ever flowed before.
And that is how I stumbled
Upon the Fount of
By grace of which the wilderness about me
Flowered into a thousand