Where is the creativity that once moved my pen?
Why does my inkwell dry up again and again?
Have I forgotten my craft comes only from His Well
That my words will dry up, leaving me nothing to re-tell
When I fail to visit His Well, time and again
To restore the creative spirit found living within
One, claimed to be a Christian, a follower of Jesus Christ
Who died on a cross, paying the ultimate price
For the ink in my well, giving up His pen
So His words through me would come to life again
Telling of His wondrous love, His never-ending grace
How His mercies abound when I continually seek His face
But I must visit His Well time and again
To nourish the vine, of which He grafted me in
I must stay bound to the only source
That will nourish my craft
Drawing always from His Well before…drawing again, aft
To keep His creative spirit flowing through me
With words of life and love
And victory
Living out His word depends on my time spent
Drawing from the well of The Sacrament
Remembering His wounded body, that my sin pierced to a tree
How He willing gave up His life, for a sinner like me
So that these simple verses laid out in rhyme
Would speak to believers He prepared before time
To take heed to His words written for us to re-tell
And draw only from The One True Source, The Creator, The Well
