It's easy on a Sunday morning, <br />setting out on the freeway to do the shopping <br />while the air is still cool and the sky a shockingly <br />harmonious blue and the hammer <br />of Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday Friday <br />is resting from the Hand that wields it, <br /> <br />to talk to God and say 'Now is all, <br />this moment is all, there is, ' <br />and with that one brief sentence <br />dissolve in a vast Ocean <br />a whole lifetime of disappointments <br />and partly-realized efforts, and feel all of life <br />come up refreshed and clean, <br /> <br />and there's every reason to believe <br />in an infinite possibility—after all, the sun <br />is still young and climbing, why not us? <br /> <br />On the way home a few hours later <br />a lot more two-armed, two-legged <br />versions of the human condition <br />are in evidence everywhere and I'm fatigued. <br />Doing anything has become a bit of a struggle <br />and I just want to get home. <br /> <br />I try the cleansing a second time. <br />The results are not as dramatic, <br />but still, if it worked last time, <br />the world is only a couple hours old now, <br />and next Sunday I'll start out early again.<br /><br />Max Reif<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ritual-of-cleansing/
