Sitting On The Wellhead

When the well dries out No reflection to see for the eyes. Just lean in and call upon to feel The depth of that dark hole. The pleasure that echo of your voice yields As it ebbs out to touch your being And disappears beyond fields, Where in gentle breeze Moves the sunflower with ease And the young cow-herd sleeps At the edge of mustard fields. The tranquil heart Now weary and vacant Bereft of your visage Sits on the wellhead Longing to hear the echoes Elongating in silvery streaks. O! Creative urge! Where have you vanished! Sitting on the wellhead In empty stretched out hours, The vast landscape opens again, Water from well seeps into eyes. You become the landscape! The dawn energizes! The sunset smiles! The echoes resign! O! My love There I see you! Floating among bees, Above sunflower and reeds! Behind watery eyes You become I!