It begins in the well
Liquid turning to gas
Fully evaporated
Bone dry
The flowers begin to wilt
Dying of thirst
It’s only source of sustenance
Lost in the night
Finally, the soul becomes restless
With no water to refresh
And no plant to nourish
The hunt grows sparse
And so, cornered
Blade dull from disuse
The soul shuts down
Unable to fight any longer
~
Photo by Christopher Sardegna on Unsplash
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