Your life, all of it, was handed to you at the time you were born along with a bucket and as you recall, life was splashed on your face that woke you from your last dream.
My Grandmother told me this, the last time I saw her, which on that visit to her house, was also the first and last time I saw her. She was standing next to the table where my Uncle was laying on the day of his burial.
Your job is, she continued
To know that your life, which is now splashed upon your face, must be caught without losing a single drop and depending on how much of the water you place back in the bucket is how you will be judged // life is like that and one cannot give up on this task, lest one never finds out the point
When love fulfills the loved and the lover.
She started crying, placed her hand on my head and walked away.
Short Stories
1 Likes
924 Views
Share: