A Story About Buckets
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You see,
everyone in this world
is born with a bucket,
to be carried around
in their hands.

Each day
is a journey
to carry the bucket
further across the wood,
closer to a river
that nobody has ever seen.

For some people,
the journey
is to fill up the bucket.
Little or more,
the bucket
gets heavier.

And each night
is a chance
to empty the bucket.
For a little, or more,
the bucket
gets lighter.

But some people
don't want to empty their bucket.
But some people
cannot empty their bucket.
They hold onto it
firmly and tightly,
with faith and thought,
or maybe not.

When they trip over the rugged
and robust roots of the trees,
gravity says, "after you."
And they won't fall,
just surprised.

The trees whisper to each other,
"but those buckets
aren't oceans after all.
There must come a time
where not a single drop can go in,
without other drops
coming out."

The trees look at each other
then try to grow up taller,
to see how far they are
from that unseen river.
But no matter how hard they try
they can only grow up so fast.
By the time they have begun,
those people
are long, long gone.

So days pass
and nights come alone.
Leaves green
and then they fall down.
Do they not see
that buckets are meant to be emptied
One that never does so
is of no use after all.

Or maybe it does
and can store our garbage,
until the end of time comes
to be the one to empty it.
But people are those
carrying the buckets around.
That would be of no good
for anyone in this wood.

Do they not see
that buckets are meant to be emptied
One that never does so
is of no use after all.
But apparently
there are always people
who just won't know
or are just afraid to know.

Thus, they still march on
toward the river far beyond.
But no one has promised a return
so why are they trying so hard?

Why is anyone trying so hard
Or is it that some are actually not?
Look! They are climbing the trees
with their buckets filled with fruits.

They climb from branches to branches
looking for a place to rest.
When they find one,
they sit on it
looking around.

Looking at the trails
of all the others on the ground.
Looking at the trails
of all the stars far beyond.
Above the canopy of the forest
above the highest clouds.
Above the moonlight
above the sun.
Above all that lies beneath,
they sit quietly on top.

"Look!
there's a river!"
"Now I can see it
as well!"
"Is that the one
we were dreaming of?"
"It doesn't matter,
it's so beautiful"

The river flows and flows,
but never comes down.
"If that's the only river,
the others are having some bad luck."
"Don't think like that
at least they are happy.
They're happy with their buckets
to go to sleep at dusk."

"At least they have their buckets,
but what else do they have?
Shouldn’t we show them
the view here on top?"
"Nah, it's fine,
they are good the way they are.
Even if they are't happy
at least they have their buckets.

Trying to lead them up
would only spill their buckets.
Then they won't be happy,
and will go back to fill them up.
We don't want that,
it would not work."

"Fine, you've got a point.
I'll just stay here
to look at the night sky."

"…"
"…"

Everyone in this world
is born with a bucket,
to be emptied
in the end.

"It's so beautiful,
the river and the sky"
"But also the earth,
stretching in front of our eyes."
"Is it the earth supporting the sky,
or the sky covering the earth?"
"No matter which way or around,
let's wish the best
for all those who're still with
their buckets
on the ground."

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