I have always relied on it,

it has always been there,

but nothing is endless.

Someday the well will run dry.

It keeps me alive,

it’s the beat of my heart.

I always took those whispers on my lips

for granted.

Yet the plants are wilting,

the air, thick with dust.

The water is murky and

poisonous on my tongue.

My spring, my livelihood,

why do you fail me?

For everything is endless

but the well has come up dry.