The Wishing Well Runneth Dry... Or Is It About To Refill?

What do you do when everything you have been working toward falls apart in months... or even weeks?

One of the great struggles of the human experience on this prison planet is that when we reach the point where the epitome of our dreams is within our line of sight... the proverbial “mountain top”... the path down is much faster and more insane than the long, arduous trek upward.

The bitter irony is that we often “peak” once we see all that we desired is within reach...

...the collapse downward is much faster and comes out of nowhere - or so it seems.

When we reach the pinnacle of a given struggle, it occurs at a very deceiving point:

We believe we are “almost there”... that what we wish to achieve and experience is within our grasp and in only a short period of time it will be ours to have, to hold, and to cherish eternally.

This is the great myth of 3D Earth...

...that what we dream of, that which drives us to get up and grit our teeth through the daily grind... is truly attainable.

It is the mythos which inspired “The American Dream” for those whose ancestors were here over 600 years ago, for those who immigrated between 1500 A.D. and 2000 A.D., and now for those who wonder “I have a dream, but can I achieve this dream in a land which does not even want me?”

These dreams, these myths, these desires - these are the fuels which keep us running on the treadmill which powers the prison planet matrix.

Will the treadmill stop?  Will we have the courage to step off of it - even if the moment we stop running our broken heart gives out and we die our last breath wondering if we should have just kept running because it is all we know?

These are questions which I ponder which have no obvious answer as long as the slave system remains intact and the slaves keep it running “relatively” smoothly.

The inspiration of this post is a 'special bond' to whom I dedicated the first song on the album Workbook - “Sunspots”

This post represents the reality when the dream dies, the matrix wins, and you realize that everything you dreamed of was a mirage - the second song on the album Workbook - "Wishing Well".

This is when you look back and see the true landscape minus the optical illusion, and you realize that from which you were running was actually a worthy experience - that the mirage was necessary for that realization.

So the next song on that same album is the inspiration for this post - it is a message of hope, yet also one of caution and hesitation:

“Sometimes when we feel the ecstasy of knowing the divine, that euphoria will end and the reality of our disconnection from Source sets in and begets a depressive episode so powerful that we are forced to realize that the true Godhead is represented by the faces of the many - of which we are one and all simultaneously."

“Wishing Well” lyrics

Wishing well runs wet and dry
I wish for things i never had
Surrounds and wells up in my eyes
The screaming voice, it lies

Wishing well gets someone's attention
Every wish you ever had
In a day of nights, in the darkest of light
Sits and cries, watch the lies

Could you give me a wish if i tell you what i want?
Will the price be no object?
I wish for dreams of light
I live for wishing well surprise

Deepest light, the secret lies
Wishing well gives you all that you desire
Homes and trains, and the greenest of plains
That you ever happened upon

The silent wish, it calls you out
Calls you out by name
Lays upon the plain, on the mountain high
City lights, wish delights

What if the waters and wishes appear?
Will the price be no object?
I wish for dreams of light
I live for wishing well surprise

Twist and shape on the winding twine
Around the spindle winds
Wish again, four times again
Four wishes deep into the well

There's a price to pay for a wish to come true
Trade a small piece of your life
Roots in the soil, uprooting the soil
Mountain high, the mountain high

The wish is only to speak a kind
Kind of word, so benign absurd
The well, three wishes run dry
Wishing well is dry

When no grass grows, the weeds run in line
Wish three wishes, three wishes run dry