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Along the river's edge a figure bends to dip his earthen pots into its vital flow they sip the precious liquid shimmering and crystalline like diamonds floating above the eclipse of the sun they become transformed from dormant vessels wearing the dull pallor of mud to vibrant cisterns radiating the glow of polished jade they breathe away exhaustion in frothy currents rushing past swollen lips to join the constant stream till he bows low and receives their treasure suspended from a wooden frame with frayed and twisted rope solidified not yet petrified soaking yet and squeezing still the moisture dripping from their fill he lifts the wooden frame upon his shoulders and keeps its balance with his arms his back strains his legs straighten as they raise their heavy load he looks up with eyes set deep beneath his furrowed brow thick parchment skin and thistled hair are all that shield him here and now he sees the road that he will take this time around and sets one foot before the other away from solid ground he goes to bring to those who find him the lading in his care he goes to meet them in that place past faith past dreams past hope
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Feb 19, 2010
Feb 19, 2010 at 11:04 PM UTC
The Water Carrier
Along the river's edge a figure bends to dip his earthen pots into its vital flow they sip the precious liquid shimmering and crystalline like diamonds floating above the eclipse of the sun they become transformed from dormant vessels wearing the dull pallor of mud to vibrant cisterns radiating the glow of polished jade they breathe away exhaustion in frothy currents rushing past swollen lips to join the constant stream till he bows low and receives their treasure suspended from a wooden frame with frayed and twisted rope solidified not yet petrified soaking yet and squeezing still the moisture dripping from their fill he lifts the wooden frame upon his shoulders and keeps its balance with his arms his back strains his legs straighten as they raise their heavy load he looks up with eyes set deep beneath his furrowed brow thick parchment skin and thistled hair are all that shield him here and now he sees the road that he will take this time around and sets one foot before the other away from solid ground he goes to bring to those who find him the lading in his care he goes to meet them in that place past faith past dreams past hope
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Feb 19, 2010
Feb 19, 2010 at 11:04 PM UTC
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