i feel the beginning well ahead of time
in the absolute silence of my mind i know
and i try to ignore it that it might not become

but still the parched thoughts become
scarce as clouds in a hot prairie sky
…and just as promising

with passion i lower the bucket again and again
pulling up less each time
til’ then comes mud
and then comes dust
and then
i lay back in fear of death
wondering if my cracked skull
will ever bring forth life again
if death is necessary
for some new life to burst forth

this is when sleep overtakes
and in the waning moments as the veil draws over my eyes
i pray for dreams
or nothing at all