The Keeper of the Well

There is a path that leads away
It whispers from the many feet,
that have tread upon it with weight of hope
while fighting eager, boiling heat

This road, this forest pavement among trees
between high mountains, over land and grass,
leads the wanderer to a mystic field
where the hunger beared will be ended at last

The ruins from an ancient time
shields a source, a chant, a dream
As a memory from a time that never existed
her beauty blinds with its gleam

She guards this treasure, holy to man
with her spirit and enchanting creature
The wanderer fears her but his mind soars
for the source of delight - to feel its cure

Her eyes they catch him and hold him tied
has he courage enough to face his faults and rights?
Is he strong enough to meet his true self
and keep wise while his heartbeat fights?

She follows him to the steps that lead
to getting a glimpse of what he's come for
The surface, the silence, the courage, the truth
stronger than warriors, hostility, war

The muscles tense with each step
his look at his feet - his concentration great
The brief meeting of man and himself
it beckons him with smiles of fate

One look, one glance, one second, one chance
he screams, he tumbles - falls to the ground
His feelings, his mind, like the waves crushing to the shore
encrusted by a solemn heartbeating sound

His selfsureness fooled him, encouraging and persuading
twirled its foul words around him - a spell
Now he lies broken, a defeated warrior
lost in the arms of the Keeper of the Well

~Ingvild Gregersen~