Empty wishing wells
collect all of my change
I empty my pockets
as I dig for potential
among fibers that be

I've thrown in my cents
for high value returns
Wrestled the pulley all the day long
accumulating a crock
of fool's gold


What is your higher wisdom
that you cast your eyes low
to the earth
the dirt
where you make your home


How do you know
a better way than I
Such that nothing changes
inside
But becomes continually better

Despite a crutch and a walking stick?

Show me your wisdom
that you think not
and easily know
what you ought not
be told

Surely the reflection is eternal
and the start and the end
be nearer than imagined
Assuming
the frontal lobes are active

But an instinct can rule
and social conditions be the rue
Limiting the human condition
to chemicals and tissues
allowing the body to subdue

Distancing the divide
between these and they
The pieces that should fit
into an integral puzzle
that marries the truth

Yet ear has not heard