The Well

In a fit of wakefulness we turn out the lamp like no-one's done it before and step outside to where we used to live
The sky hangs heavy and sudden and crowded
Our minds crawl to meet the light racing at us from worlds racing from us
And though we've heard fable of great distance
The spaces between tiny things
The unending journey the light still takes to sparkle on our lakes
We choose the same faint clusters, the familiar, there above our heads
Heavenly chandeliers, dripping, to be flicked with idle fingers
Not the hovering, dark, claustrophobic umbrella that wakes and shakes us
Not the mirror of shy catchlights
Our own tadpole eyes in the bottom of a well
Whose lips draw a border where our field of vision ends
As if we could catch the sky
Contain it, define it, claim it
As if it has edges too
And we can describe them with our own soft lips



Credits
Writer(s): George Moorey
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

Link