I went to the well today and drew nothing. Sitting there in the blistering heat of oppression, my mind found no such recess of solace as to abate my thirst for vitality in its raw form. Is the well dry, or is my reach too shallow? Maybe I didn’t sink deep enough, rendering the void of my grasp empty and wanting.

But, other days; other days, I swear I’ve reached farther down and still come up empty.

I pray it’s my reach that fails me and not the well itself. I pray that this well has not run dry.