Welling Up

Dry.
At a stand still.
It wishes to never move again in hopes it will not feel.
Perhaps it will not continue to look the wrong way, and walk the wrong path.
Better to pluck it out than let it fall.

Taught.
Given the prescription to truly see.
Or is a new one altogether?

Overrun.
The waters encircle the circumference.
It has beheld the grace upon itself.
It cannot stand still.
It looks and responds.
What else has it been made to do?

There is a reality of the unseen that places the faith within.
The truth welling up its windows to the soul and no longer can the light be hidden.
Pour out of thine innards and splash the grace of the One who sees and knows and founds it all.