the limping friar in poetry

I threw out some old glories
clad in ones that still apply
I go down for water
the well is a lie

before enlightenment
the monk goes to the well for water
and after the enlightenment
the monk still goes to the well like a lamb to its slaughter
that's facile wisdom
there's deeper truth if you try
the parable says
the well is a lie

the monk's hip hurts
the monk's back is gone
and he's seen the heart of the lotus
he's seen divinity's locus
but the monk's getting older
his legs keeps getting weaker
and I know what they say it means
that knowing the ethereal
doesn't change the material
but that seems to be a cop-out excuse
lip-service of little use
to those of us trapped underneath
this vast empty sky
if we can change
but the well can't
then the well is a lie

I burned down the past
not with matches but sighs
and if nothing can last
then the well is a lie