The Hate You Give

Who knows where the water in a Well comes from, her relatives and who her friends are?
A mystery, like that of a Rainbow flying her beautiful colors across the blue sky with really no root. Nothing confined in a place for too long, almost ever remains the same, but for the Well, ever fresh and ever clean water like a spring on a mountain top.

The last person to tell a secret is the eyes; they see and, tell everything they hear to whoever has ears to listen to the stories they’ve written from watching. There’s nothing sown that the ground doesn’t benefit from- crops, animal dungs to blood and bones ridden by war, love, jealousy, and quests far beyond man’s imagination.

Victor Oyedele