the water coming out is pure (sweet even)
some days,
no matter what goes in,
you might have started to notice.
such is the goal; even though,
the process is not understood.
it’s felt,
allowed.
we’re charcoal,
filters of fine mesh,
pulses of electricity,
forward momentum and reversing, too,
which can at times be experienced like plumbing problems
-street elbows full of hairy regret, sludged up, huh?, valves corroded with Why Me?–
until it can be felt
deep in a body of an advanced engineering
of nerve pipes dumping
into muscle-sadness storehouses
long ago designed for purification,
yet decommissioned until the managers could awaken
in these Holy Water Manufacturing Plants.
the debris cleared out is not even our own.
the pain
processed
is not personal.
the tears the shudder
the retching
our service
at last,
just working it through
trickling out pure water at times.
thank you and you’re welcome.
Life as Improv 
Beautiful
beauty back
in the end,
well deserved
expression
of gratitude 🙂
the best ending
any one
can hope for,
you help me to see.
. . . or in my case this week, Aitch to woe – getting to grips with a new fangled camera.
You pretzel my brain and make me grin, Aitch. There is no camera or you and the camera are one or as my ex’s family would say, enjoy it in good health. I look forward to seeing some captures.
You’re my people, M. I am taking deep drinks of the sweet water you offer, and it is the realization that the “pain processed is not personal” that seems to awaken the sleeping machinery sometimes for me. Both in the sense of not taking life so seriously, and in the sense of knowing no life is only our own, and that our transmutations are universally held…
Thank heavens for the invention of the street elbow! They’ve gotten us out of more than a few jams in the piping business!
Peace
Michael
You awaken in me a feeling of deep gratitude for all the ones of our people who have already transmuted us to kingdom come (kingdom here). passeth understanding.
What an incredibly vivid analogy. I esplly liked “of nerve pipes dumping into muscle-sadness storehouses.” Wow!