Blood brothers
[Photo by Sandro Gonzalez on Unsplash]
The rain drops drip, drip, drip into my consciousness. The ancient water nourishes the earth just outside my window. This water has fallen before - on the plains of Mongolia, off the coast of New Zealand, on the deserts of Africa - to be immediately sent heavenward by the searing sun. Over and over again the cycle has continued through the millennia. There is no new rain. Just this ancient water, here since the Creation, which may have once been in an ocean or in a tree or in another just like me.
Water which ebbs and flows, rises and falls is the source of life. Isn’t that water in you the same water that’s in me? That same ancient water here since the dawn of time. When our life force ebbs from us and needs replenishing, doesn’t the blood of others flow to fill our veins? Aren’t we then, all blood brothers?