Fountainhead - Alyssa Underwood

Might there be a fountain

where souls long dead from thirst

find spirits raised to life in floods abounding free,

so that what once walked as corpse,

night-bound and blind, may see?

Old self exchanged for Treasure, diving in

tastes such rejuvenation as can't

be weighed by mortal measure—

wine unlike our earth-grown fruit whose petals fall,

from this Vine flowers the pleasantness of Love Divine

which bathes in healing waters all

who come as humble newborn with bold suck to dine.