When the well runs dry,
My, oh my,
There's hell to pay
And dust in your eye.
Along the dry highway.
To nowhere in sight.
Blank pages in front of you.
What you would do for a little light?
The only drop in sight,
Is the tear in your eye,
Lost without insight,
You sit at the page and sigh.
But, dig down, deep.
The world's a sea of knowledge,
Too wide for one man to cross,
And too deep to pillage.
There always comes a time,
After swimming far and wide,
That the source dries up,
And ideas hide.
So, I pray for inspiration from the sky.
To refill the ocean and the well so dry.
Overflowing with toner and ink and such.
And the images and stories I love so much.
So if you're parched and dry,
And you try and try, to no avail
Just cast your thoughts to the wind,
And the well of knowledge will fill your sail.
Copyright 2000 © Ronald W. Hull