From the Wishing Well (Unfinished)

Nothing almost sees miracles but misery.
-Earl of Kent, King Lear

"From the wishing well,
I wish them well," read the millstone
As it sat beneath the juniper tree,
Awaiting the orbs to align aright,
Thus sending it to the sea.

I've seen the full spectrum in past lovers' eyes,
Have filled my senses in rustic scenes
Where all my nymphs once far outshined
The nuances of the panorama's greens.

I thought I loved them, Daphne.

In this moment, I am the grey
Between two extremes,
And as intercessor, I ferry my way
From now and next
Ignoring the gurgling jest
Of last year's drowning flings:
"If you continue for the better things,
You'll never find the best."

I sound steps both hot and cold
Between rows of impartial faces, walls
With a single mouth, a thousand eyes,
Their innards a labyrinth of stairs and halls
Where Sisyphus works in coat and tie,
Watching the clock as he rolls his ball.

I hear, "Two lepta?" From the corners
Where open hands implore
A fisted man, flush-faced and full
As he steps from an eatery door.
He gives, "I'm always one to help the poor.
Don't thank me. I must thank you,
For now I've room for thirty more."

"I'll give my best. Always my best,"
But I'll trail bread crumbs behind me, lest
I have to make my way back from there."
That's when I saw the birds come from their nests
And fed. So gorged they couldn't take to the air
To escape the hunter's snare.

I made my bed by the rivers of Babylon
And watched the world as it stepped
Over me. She wiggled away as she cradled my Daphne
Waving over her shoulder, smiling as I wept,
And tossing autumnal leaves with every few steps or so.
I had to go. I just had to go.

I run, I walk, I crawl, I progress
And all the while my hope's regressed,
For now I long to see the ghosts of yesteryear.
"If only I weren't here. Anywhere but here."