Blood drop in a big bucket
Years of nonsense carrying water in Big glass jars—good water none the less—Mountain Valley Spring Water from Hot Springs Arkansas—from the depths of the earth—old water I was told—3500 years old since it was rain—this I believed—here was my faith. I bought the water and carried the water and sold the water for money. Each transaction was a link in a chain of faith. An ideal that was as easy to accept as water rolling off a duck’s ass for some. And as difficult for others to comprehend as a world where might isn’t necessarily right or god is just another idea.
Tags: A DROP OF BLOOD, dust rainbows and dirty sox, hey diddle diddle