The Well Of Heaven

I wonder what all those doors mean as I tilt my head I want to fall down and thinking backwards maybe I said I thought I said • well • I wonder which way I’m facing as I move away I try to look down and turning backwards maybe I stay I think I stay

There with the ghosts and the dragon looking out at me is not so big that I can’t see my head is full of scales here by the well • The well of heaven

I wonder where all those doors go as I make my bed I want to lie down and looking forward maybe I said I thought I said • now • I wonder how high the world is as I get in deep I try to sit down and falling forward maybe I sleep I think I sleep

There with the ghosts and the dragon looking out at me is still so small that I can’t see my head is full of scales here by the well • The well of heaven

I wonder what all those doors were as I pass the guard I want to come down if getting back up isn’t too hard maybe it’s too wonderful to be wasted as I walk the row I try to tie down the words that grow up but I don’t know I think they know I’m

Here with the angels and the dragon looking into me is just enough so I can see my head is full of scales here by the well • The well of heaven

Here with the angels and the dragon looking into me is just enough so I can be • My head is full of scales here by the well • The well of heaven • Here by the well • The well of heaven

© Zen Greenway

Picture Credit (and info on the actual Well of Heaven) – Philadelphia Museum of Art

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It’s obvious that when the apocalypse comes, I will be one of the weak people. I will have no spin kicks with which to defend myself. I will have only the magic of my words and my understanding to protect me. I will be meat for the beast. (Unless I can engage him in conversation.) And I am fine with that. If my death at monstrous hands becomes imminent, I hope I can meet it in a lounge chair, sipping on a gin martini.

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