Another Bloody Evening

Only when water is stained red, I remember it clear. But must dirtied water be poured down the drain for the cup to be filled clean? All life is precious. All life is good. Both river and sea are drained. Water sits still, it just darkens and swamps. Creates deep thick mud, rotting flesh, stench, decay. Oh! Damns will break? Will streams crystal return? Soft flow will wash red stains clean, for mundane now I yearn.