Brick by brick, I was slowly built. Molded to the ground and firmly set in place. So much room, and yet I was nothing but empty space. I spent each morning gazing at a blissfully painted sky, longing to be the artist that made it come alive. Similarly, my nights consist of wishing upon the stars, that maybe one day I could be the one to shine through the dark. Honey has bees, leaves have trees, when will something ever need me? A well made of stone, hollow, and never ever whole. The well and I, we live side by side.
The concept of one’s life purpose has taken me a long time to fully wrap my head around. It’s something so personal to an individual’s development that it feels somewhat wrong to put it into words. However, if I had to say one thing, it’d be that every traumatic experience I’ve ever encountered contributed to filling up my well. Although this scared me at first, I quickly realized that holding this water, the pain of those around me, gave me the purpose I was always searching for. Being able to aid in grief is a gift, one that I will forever hold dear to me. The silly metaphor of an insignificant well has followed me all throughout my life and made me the person I am today. So, for what it’s worth, as badly as the water needed the well, the well needed the water 100 times more.
About the Creator
Cristina Hector
Content Associate at Creatd
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Comments (5)
🌸 I liked it.
This is stunningly raw and beautiful. This is a - close my eyes and let it replay in my head - kind of piece. It resonated within me like the water that fills the well and makes it whole. As you recently said to me so graciously, I must say to you in return and honestly: "Keep writing, we love it. 💛"
This is a wonderful and evocative poem. Thank you so much for sharing it.
“Brick by brick I was slowly built.” A powerful imagery This is relatable to me, though my bricks are of a different clay and fire or maybe the some of the same. Thank you sharing. Beautifully written. 🥰
Beautifully written...and oh, so true. More, more!!