Today's depth goes to the bottom of a well. Above the swallow of blackness, there hangs a flaxen aureole. The well makes a coy proclamation of empty thirst. If only the light could nourish the darkness. Darkness once unknown is now mere darkness exposed. Alas, the emptiness remains. Aspiration builds upon the tumbles of time. From where shall holy water pour? Let this aureole rain, O' God. Let the empty bask in your light.