The tall, frail glass slipped from my grasp.
Tumbling end over end
it spilled its contents
as it hit each rise on the staircase.
Finally, coming to rest at the base it lay.
Spent.
Unbroken.
How like that glass of water are people!
Tossed about.
Beaten down.
Used up by life.
Weary.
Tattered.
Whole.
OnJoyRoad 