The Witching Well

My feet fly ahead

as I rush towards the cliff;

my blood rushes

as I prepare

to jump, to dive

to the graveless grave

down the witching well.

And now I fall through you.

As I fall, my body shakes violently;

every nerve sparks alive

under the bold and vibrant caress

of the wind, of your hands,

of it all,

down the witching well.

My skin vibrates intensely

as the deep reverberations

tear my skin away

in the slowest

of all

possible

motions,

down the witching well.

And I fall.

Yet I feel no wind

or cold

or void.

Instead I feel you

as I dive endlessly

into the whirlpool

that is your embrace,

down the witching well.

My eyes are now closed

as I smirk…

and push myself down.

Faster,

down the witching well.

And so,

I confirm my suspicions:

for when a man

accepts the Embrace,

he also accepts

the endless pit

that forever will

swallow him within,

down the witching well.

I spin down mindlessly

with only one thought on my mind

and that’s the reason

for which I dive, fall, fly.

And so then, you see,

I cannot fly if it’s not without you,

down the witching well.