There was a lake. I walled it in and made of it a well.
Its waters hold the dark of death and all the cold of hell.
The wall I bricked with gratitude and all my duties borne.
I sealed the cracks.
I packed it tight with ice and pledges sworn. There is a well I do not touch
though always close at hand
that looms and brims with waters black no wall can full remand.
Yet when some voice calls from the depths, I still lower down,
for he that drew me from the deep
will
never
let
me
drown.
s. Clark.
