A Vigorous Spirit

The crystalline waters rushed into my container as I submerged it in the shallows of the stream. I waited with the patience of centuries as it slowly filled, and when the last bubble drifted from to the surface I raised the flask to my lips and drank.
The icy liquid invaded my mouth, cleansing and searing with a furious intensity. I was awash with sensations of snowbound mountain peaks, of altitudes where the violet sky fades to star flecked black, of the auroras shifting in their luminous dance. It was like imbibing pure atmosphere.
I shuddered at the experience.
It was one I had had many times before. The water always refreshed, but never quenched.
Considering this, I paused in the sun dappled space. That which gives perpetual life imbues perpetual desire. How strangely reciprocal.
My musings ended. I waded to the bank, and after clothing myself knelt by my father.
“Next year, perhaps, I shall bring her.”
I kissed his head and, as I stood, noticed a bee resting upon the honeycomb.
Smiling, I departed.

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