Dry, Cracked, Earth

My, its quite dusty in here isn't it?
Don't be rude.
"It's been like this quite a while, hasn't it."
That it has, that it has.

...We should do something, shouldn't we?
Perhaps, perhaps not.
We could leave it be. Let it go its way.
"But something does need doing."

"And that something is?"
To strike the barren earth.
"To crack the ground, and plant a seed."
To water the earth and, if needed, tend the bud.

...

We've known this for a long time. Why haven't we?
A fair question. Distance. Exhaustion. Nerves.
A general disdain for burdens, real or imagined.
"We've made our peace. Haven't we?"

Shush. All of you. Let's start again, from the beginning.

There is, let me think... A pond, yes. Crisp, clear waters. Vibrant, full of life.

Singular.
A point of reference.
Full of potential.
"Hardly a story though. Barely counts as raw material."

Give it time. We have nothing else.

...It could use a hook.
But a simple one. We're out of practice.
How about: Is the pond real, or a metaphor?
"Bit vague. Should we ask for more?"

It will do.

You've heard the chorus. Will the pond be literal, or metaphor? We will await the answers, even one.