One at the north,
The other south,
All that the mind conceives,
Falls or is tossed into one well,
Or the other,
None escape the adamant blackened gravity,
One a well of soulful goodness,
The other a black hole of soulless evil,
The question is to rise above or sink below?
Sink below the goodness,
And drip in delusional godliness?
To rise above the perceived evil,
Or to sink below and beat it at its game?
If hovering over or thrashing around in thy chosen well,
The soul might sink into the well beneath the well too, you see,
And then one becomes the other,
Havoc inhabits conscience, Thunderous collisions within,
Soul is black or white?
It’s neither, rather just shades of grey,
Among the radiant colors that our eyes want to see,
Shades of grey in layers and patches,
In the end, no, as we spin and re spin
The water in both the wells remains murky if not marshier.