The Bucket

There is an empty bucket inside me,
Deep inside, down at the bottom of me.
An empty bucket, that wants to be filled.
Waiting to be filled, again, with something spiritual,
When I was quiet at church today, I found it, empty.

I thought the bucket should be filled up with water,
Though it may still have had a little water in it
As I focused on it, intending that it should fill,
It began to be filled, by a stream of water from above.
The water was silvery, pure, clean and bright.

As the bucket filled, I filled too, up from my depths
Through all seven chakras to my shoulders, my neck, my head.
I thought it was the Holy Spirit, coming when asked
He came because He was invited to fill my bucket,
To fill it up with what I needed, fill me to the top.

After the bucket was full of water,
I found that I had water to, share,
With a dipper I could give water to others
Who were open to it, or who needed it.
My bucket held what they needed too.

And then I found other things I could do with the water.
I could nurture life in plants, animals and people.
I could put out fires and calm situations if I had water in my bucket.
I could share the Holy Spirit with the world around me,
If my bucket was recently refilled and ready to go.

But then, after a while, the bucket would be empty,
It didn’t fill up automatically, all by itself
I had to find quiet to see the empty bucket again,
and intend it to fill again, to fill it and me again.
When I noticed I was empty again.


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