If you know where that blessed spring lies, please tell me.

I seem to have lost my map.

Thrown out with the dreams of yesterday and spent desires.

Treasure fallen among garbage.

Object that I cannot live without.

Missing from its space next to new beginnings and behind my ribcage.

***

I cannot tell you how long it has been missing.

Only realizing it missing when my cup ran dry.

Only then did I feel the aching thirst.

So subtle a shift I never noticed.

A critical weakness and way of life.

A clock that has to be reset.

***

I cannot live like this.

A fog that might as well be a dreaming state.

Head full of the downy cotton of un focus and a body made of lead.

A state only compatible with that of a doll.

Eyes stitched tight and laid to a rest without real sleep.

Dreaming of what it would be like to live again.

***

Give me that hot fire.

The wild kind that sets me aglow.

Where I can feel it all and more.

A driver that is neither safe nor cruel.

But that kind of energy only comes from the blessed spring.

Now, where did I put that map?