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Water Babes by Ivan Donn Carswell
We were water babes, born in the arms of a sparkling brook that patiently took us into its heart. At the very start we were never far from its shingly banks, playing amid ranks of serried wildflowers. When one of us all but drowned in a careless encounter the stream buoyed her up in a swirling embrace, enchanted by her smile, ingenuously placed a coronet of gold on her touseled head and delivered a beatified child of the water. All of us knew who had saved her. She wears the crown still, the gold faded to russet in autumn decline, but her love is as pure as the divine water that gave her her life. In the passage of time we grew out of the streamside and flowed into a fractious world beyond the sheltered hills, we learned of wars and catastrophes, torment and misery, the dour pain of soured relationships; lessons which challenged our humble origins, questions unanswered. One cannot deny a brook may breach its peaceful banks and scour a flagrant path with awesome power, potential might belies the calm that flowers in gentle times, and gentle times were all we knew. But beside our brook the true conscience of peace had shaped our thoughts and romantic beliefs. © I.D. Carswell
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