Wither

You came to me
in pursuit of peace.
So that you could know
your inner shadow,
as I do.
I offered you a drink from my cup,
and asked not for anything in return.
My well runs deep,
for I draw my waters
from a spring far deeper than any deposit
dare to be.
You came again,
begging for more,
and more I gave.
Not once did I ask for requital,
but I could feel in my bones
a shift.
My well began to dry.
Your insatiable thirst for peace left me
drained.
It was not until my cup grew parched
did I see the error of my ways.
Look now,
and see what your greed has wrought.
Do you not understand
that an understanding heart
can grow tired of being understanding
and never understood?
I poured my cup into yours,
never once realizing that yours
was already full,
and that you would not have spared
a drop for me.
My spring has grown parched
and I have no more to give,
yet you will wander this wretched place
for an eternity
under the guise of never having been helped.
I truly pity you,
though I pity the ignorance in my heart
all the more.

~LT

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