Ephemeral

Surrounding endless mountains of frothy rains,
purple clouds twist and bend like little baby curls.
Humans and Children gather to the wishing well,
of unknown heros and untold fables.

Whispering secrets of the lost worlds,
and novel love stories of forgotten heroines.
Marking health and pure intentions,
onto faithful travelers in its world.

The moonlight aids as a path to a few fortuitous souls.
Torto forestalls those who defile life, and guides
the clairvoyant to the well.
The protean villian - the horror and the hero.

This prosaic generation has proscribed fortitude.
The primeval well has been overgrown, lost.
A morose fog floats around it's open mouth,
as if feeding on the moonlight for saccharine comfort.

The forlon well has died, it's secrets become dust.
It's forbearance was no match to the clamor and frenetic world.
It's uncanny nature is no longer somthing to glorify.
It's water cogulates, of mud and trash.

Under thick vines, it's existence decays.