My Inspiration. My All

I have had this poem chilling for quite some time. I've felt like I never finished it and really wanted to, but I'm beginning to wonder if I ever will. I've decided to share it with you and let you know that I have no plans to complete it. It shall remain incomplete.

Silence; seated; awe.

Just listen to the majesty.
Who cares for the fountain of youth when
this fountain flows with truth
and hides not behind lies of tainted windows and politrix and common myths.
So brilliant and radiant are the droplets that escape its source
and blessed I am
I am considered blessed to touch,
not even taste,
this water so true.
How can you deny this fountain to be majestic and amazing?
This fountain spits fire and ice,
warmed water from it's core
trickles down like none other,
touches me sensually, metaphysically,
socially and emotionally
so much so that I want more.

Thanks for reading!

-Black Hippie 758