Wallowing in My Juices

    There is suffering and pain;

    we know this.

    There is grief and anguish;

    What more can I admit.

    

    Things dark and gloomy, sad and tragic.

    Gut wrenching, blue, all of the forlorn colors.

    Woe is me! Woe is you! 

    Woe unto all of us...

    We wallow and meander, morosely...

    Little light, little hope.

    And yet:

    There is warmth out there waiting.

    Where, do you say?

    You must tell me. You have to explain.

    Please, do tell me.

    Tell me your "why". Tell me your "what".

    You know what these are.

    I can let you explain and expound.

    We have so many juices and liquids within our beings...

    Water-dependent, in our blood, our brains, in our loins and innards,

    Flowing everywhere, the cells of our animal lives,

    Meshed with the fluids of plants and trees and rivers and oceans.

    The juices bequeathed by the photosynthetic leaves derived from the sunlight.

    And the bones, dried and liquified, of billions of us, lie ossifying across the globe.

    

    High and low, the dead and alive.

    We celebrate life and all those who have lived in their juices before.

    Let us not wallow, and bemoan too long, use up our time in the lows, and come out the 

    other side

    To the heights and climbs,

    Higher echoes and climes.

    Reach for the waters of life and sing.