Gadiaseite ~ gad-EEE-ah-site ~ NOUN
The great abyss of the empty page, a wishing well with churning waters so deep you can't see the bottom—only the shimmer of coins shine through, entwined with the efforts of past attempts—you can recover the wishes but only if you hold your breath and dive into the unknown waters.
Derived from the Latin word Gaida meaning waiting and the German word Seiten meaning pages.
As she fell down the wishing well,
A stray thought wormed right in,
“Who am I?
Am I’m Alice? The one with travelled the Looking Glass?
The one who fought the Jabberwocky?
Or perhaps the one who lost her head?
My own head feels a bit lost,
So I must be her, falling down to reality.”
I seem to go through major life events every time they come out with a new Alice and Wonderland movie. Not sure why, but something about those movies then get stuck in my head.
There is a wishing well where I live,
filled with coins down the bottom,
some are shiny, some old, some rusting into the water.
Circles of copper, silver, aluminum and gold.
Here I will take a bet,
throw my first quarter into the pond,
There it falls with a bubbly thud.
Day by day I will sit by it, murmur a silent prayer,
Doing nothing as the sun set.
So when the dawn comes,
I will get exactly the opposite
of what I wished for,
My coin lost among the thousands,
In this miraculous wishing well.
Plop! goes the tiny coin
Sinking into the little well
Side to side it goes before
It reaches the bottom of it
Clasped my hands together
To make a little wish
A smile creeps up my face
As I think of him
Whispers escaped my lips
Gentle wants no more than greed
Holding your hand in need
Of your happiness, health, peace
For your deserving self to breathe
Finest of them all
Gentlest of all lambs
Burdens for you begone
Get the things you have longed for
To the wishing well
Even if it may be a myth
But I always believe
Someone up there will ensure your well-being
*Even when I do not exist
If I only had one wish to make
I would have wished your eyes to be a Wishing Well,
So that I could drop all my dreams about you into them
And I know you will make me lucky someday.
I’ve dubbed my wastebasket the wishing well
Well I wish for nothing more than a dime of
creativity to hit me, ripple across my wrinkles
Knocking some sense in,
sink beneath my pores
So swallow my codswallop wishing well
because this is another petty penny for you.
© Matthew Harlovic
This is something that I salvaged from a while ago. I’m glad, I didn’t throw it out.
deep below the wishing well,
in the tomb of wishful pennies,
live a team of diligent elves,
working day and night.
they grab each cast away coin as it falls,
clutching them to their grimy chests in hunger.
they box them all up
and melt them down in flat sheets by the dozen
in factory fashion
and they build from them tools and weapons;
whatever it is that they need.
their business is balanced on the backs of believers
who pour out their hearts to deaf coins
in scrunched eyes and in whispers
and a flick of their wrists to the darkness below.
perhaps if they knew the fate of their coins,
the industrial dungeon just storeys below
they might have spent their wishes on a shooting star instead,
destined to shatter through space.
Isn't it strange that we wish on things that are going to die?
Like coins thrown into fountains- they're just gonna sink.
And shooting stars- they're going to explode.
Birthday candles are going to be blown out.
So why should wishes survive?
— The End —