I think his name was Boethius, and his fate was much more dramatic and extreme than most, yet maybe universal in its themes and emotion.

And he apparently found salvation through the Goddess of Wisdom and more power to him if she really helped

Against her advice I often find myself pleading to the muses for support through poetry and music, which yeah, might just give the pitiful more fuel for the fire

But I've also called on Wisdom, and awareness, and detachment followed by immersion, and the elusive middle way between them

And the present moment and the Christian God, and the more defined Mormon one, and a smattering of indigenous, Eastern, and Jungian deities

The spirit of the depth, the unconscious, Jesus, psychedelics and stimulants and Johns O'Donahue and Steinbeck, mom and dad and son and daughter

And they all told me that they felt it too and that I needn't try so hard to make it sound important and original. This is hard. And I'm not sure how or if it will get better. And if it doesn't, I'm not sure there's enough left to go on

But look, the cat's come over to cozy up, and done so in that very cat-like way which says, you need this more than I do, but I'll let you think you're doing me a service. Thank you and you're welcome

There's a fenced off preserve in heaven, populated by all the plants and animals I've eaten, worn, caught baseball's with... or that were the baseballs.

There's a small army of tuna, cows and chickens, a lone reindeer, acres of cotton and bamboo, soybean, rice, quinoa

Even two parakeets which I did not eat but did keep in a cage briefly until they died from boredom or over feeding or lack of perceived purpose

And is it a good exchange? Can it be? Is there some unseen value in this daily transaction which justifies it somehow? I can see the need for a Jesus when I think of it this way.

Conversely

I will not be the hero of international relations - no- world peace will not come from me

I may not be the selfless first responder, though I did ace the curriculum (both written and practical portions)

I will in all likelihood not be mother Earth's savior, and the rhinos will indeed go extinct

I am certainly not my bright-eyed younger self's hero, for I have made no genre-defying hits, and not once has Letterman gotten off his pretentious ass to shake my hand

But I can handle a spilled cup of water, a dry pajama top, a reassurance that things can be good again, or, that at least the attempt to make them so will be worth the effort.

The worst part of life

A sharp cry from her bedroom,

More babyish than she normally sounds now,

Confused and denuded, sheets soaked,

Working to right the cup with wet hands,wet nose, wet face, blurry half asleep eyes,

Between heaving, betrayed, embarassed sobs:

I was thirsty