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I went out to find: Pagan, Saintly Well.

Far, far from my green, lushing lands
Where there is a suffocated chapel bell
Buried beneath blood in Damascan sands
As Sun beats down with fists of Hell
Those ancient drumrolled crimson hands
That starve to parch: Pagan, Saintly Well.

Each desert grain does march the tune
Gold gusts of squalls which mark anew
Where tomorrowed yesterday harked a dune
Now, in it’s place is stark’s tattoo.

Her incantations, my forgot commands
I was cast asunder camel mage’s spell
I lost my mind traipsing humpback strands
When I happened upon: Pagan, Saintly Well.

I dreamt awake rivers coursing through
An endless beached faint residue
A froth and gurgled forcing blue
Turning flax to cyan spate and spew.

Or, was that me? Pagan, Saintly Well.

A heavy haze of mist
From right to left
Lingered labouring
Like horizon’s breath
Through the thickened thatch
My limbs slow moved
As the wisps they catch
Low flighty grooves
White from right to left
Bright from right to left
Horizon’s breath filled I
From head to boot.

And, before Delirium’s eyes an Oasis grew
I was slaked in horizon’s breath, and there I fell
In a lake no bigger than a cell measured 2 x 2.

I became the river’s edge of a plateaued stoop
Where Nomad’s Pass led to their blessings tell;

“Onward! Farewell! Here lies
went: Pagan, Saintly Well.”

© poormansdreams

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