Fuel For The Soul

My soul is empty.
The nearest station
Within 100 miles
Is 15 miles behind me.
I can only go forward,
Hoping for a mystical
Oasis of soul fuel
To appear ahead,
Replacing the barren
Arid desert with an
Undisturbed, bubbling spring.

Colors cascading and pooling
Around reeds that grow
As tall as words,
Were swans gracefully
Dance–dipping between
The water’s membrane–
And swallows echo
A tune to the wind.
If I could find this place,
I would stand at its edge
And pantomime whatever I saw.

Copyright 2012
A. J. Hayes
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