September 11, 2005
The precious water from the well,
That brings my work to life,
Comes not from me, but from the one,
The source, the power, the light.
I dug the hole, I placed the bricks,
I lower the bucket each day;
The water flows forth easily,
But I have a price to pay.
It brings such joy to know that I
Am doing the master's work.
The water flows out endlessly
Freeing hearts in distant worlds.
Author: Steve Robison