There is snow and ice on the top of the world.
There is magma and muck in the deepest pit of the oceans.
Somewhere between we breathe and eat,
we sweat and shiver and sleep and squint.
We work and worry and fight and fail.
We frolic and make music.
We play skat and sheephead.
We drink and dance.
We cogitate and copulate and calculate
the fortunes we would spend if we had them.
We kill and are killed.
We will not and cannot forget.
We forgive, we heal,
we try to make amends.
We are consumed in deserts.
We sink to the bottom of the sea.
We die in battle and bed.
We take our lives or give them away.
Bind up my brother's wounds.
Mend the bruises my sister wears like badges.
Between the glaciers and the magma vents
there is a soft glade where sunlight flutters.
Find a place of comfort to stretch our battered limbs,
our scarred faces and shattered hearts.
Weep for the sons and daughters of Eve.
Tell her of your love for them.
Whisper to Adam that his kin are as dear
as your own right arm.
Bring a platter of spätzle and a bottle of wine
Feed them for you are of them and from them and for them.
Between the swaddling and the winding sheet,
there is much to be done.
Better get to it.