This dark, brown bottle has seen the world. Its been filled with wondrous concoctions inside. Its quenched the thirst of those longing for drink. Its been emptied and filled many times over. The bottle has been to the bottom of the ocean. It has danced in the seas. Its been lost and found more times than can be remembered. Its been used up, poured empty. Recycled and filled with new purpose, new meaning, new hope. Chipped here and there. Weather worn. Still it runneth over.
Drank from this bottle heartily. Thrown away with little care. Not knowing that the job was also to refill. Many picked it up and drank from it thirstily. Many walked passed unmoved. Not giving a second glance. It filled with experiences of life before. It lain alone in the drying desert sun. Waiting for purpose anew. Inside this bottle hides a message, a pearl of wisdom. To others, they care only for the bottle, not the stuff inside. A few cents crushed to warm one briefly in their too long life. All this is okay. People have different needs. Different thirsts.
I know one that needs a drink. Trouble is, not sure the dry one knows that he is thirsty. His actions have gotten him into trouble. A long series of “Not my fault”. A brief success of untruthfulness. An desensitization to his present condition has left him dry. Parched with delusion. This one is blind to the road ahead. Or maybe he's gone empty, . Just drunk with a player’s mindset. Convinced in others immortality, This so called Magician, does not realize he is under spell. This one denies society’s teachings and forgoes a place in it. Subservient to gremlins unknown. This Wise Youth knows so much. Trouble is he hasn’t learned anything. And the price for his actions of being duplicitous, hurtful, and reprehensible is coming due.
Now no longer welcome. A call for help has been sent.
Thing is the one asking for help is not the one thirsty. Not sure what assistance can be given. Not sure if rock bottom isn’t where this one needs to go to. Salvation needs to be asked for, before it is granted. The history of past acts does not engender confidence in a change of directions.
How does one deal with once beloved? This one tears at the fabric of the protective blanket of home. Lies have worn patience that keeps this one fed and warm. Lies to friends. Lies to family. Lies to himself. These holes worn thin by these Lies now chills those around him. 
Does one let the child fall? When does one enact Tough Love? Intervene? These problems were long in the making and resolution is not in the horizon. Intervention has been called for. Enabling has been course. Those close ones are the Fork in the road. One has banished. Another can only provide a quiet support. Another cries for the soul lost. Pained by whips of untruthfulness. Throbbing with betrayal. Scarred and blinded. She ignores the truth. Suffers the pangs. She is a Mother. Always will be a mother. From the very first time she has laid eyes on him, she will always love him. All the Prayers and Hopes are imbued to this One. How can she consider to let go? Letting go is not built in.
A call to for intervention has been sounded. I got messaged. I am one brown, chipped bottle. Had some experience with the ungovernable. Being one myself. I know what it means to know everything, to learn Time has shown I know nothing. Not sure what this encounter will reveal. Name calling and knives resulted prior. Opening a dose of reality can be surprising.
Not sure if this is empty or full. Not sure of much. Maybe this feeling of uncertainty is what is called for. Open Mind. Open Heart. Open Possibilities. No Agenda. With Love and Faith Many Things Are Possible. If not Carl Rogers, then Gestalt it. I am the Bottle. If this one does not drink from my wealth of knowledge and experience, then let a clunk in the head by this brown bottle be my answer.
