The Well

All the creatures pushing and shoving at the well, each wants their share, lots of fighting and cursing, and it is strange, astonishing, that one would think existence is limited, that there's not enough to go around, all that shoving, pushing, snarling, yelling, scheming, all of it useless in the face of such vast provision, no one gets one bit more or less than the other.

Pleasure is hoarded and treasures amassed in big king of the hill games, all distractions, all ephemeral cloud kingdoms, so easily dissolved in the face of spacious existence, eternal glee of giving with no thought or care for return, endless replenishment and ease, oh ho ho, the well is never to be possessed, always to be enjoyed, play the games as we will.