Sue Vincent's Daily Echo

Purity coloured
Gathering experience
Altered clarity
Changed by the flow of being
Perfect in imperfection

The  stream runs down from the mountain. Sourced in the clouds that wreath the heights, it tumbles laughing through the peat and rocks. Within its crystal its carries the blue of the sky and the images of trees, wearing its journey reflections. Colourless, it holds all shades and shadows. When my hand becomes my cup, I drink liquid light.

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