I can feel the juices rising, waking me from deep slumber. A new cycle is beginning and I welcome it. The sun provides its light and warmth to caress me, once again raising my spirits. Rejoice. I am alive again. Risen.
I have delighted in many hundreds of such cycles; always the same, always different. The awakening and hope, the basking and lazy passing of the days, followed by the retreat and slipping back into that dreamless sleep. Each cycle is a gift, wondrous and ecstatic. Yet again my senses strain to take in the world around me, to allow its richness to saturate my being. So much to take pleasure in. Yet tinged with great sadness.
Once we were many, now I stand alone.
Once thousands of us formed a vibrant community, reaching out with intertwined tendrils to exchange news, gossip and share our love of being. But those days have passed. They are all long gone. Now I am alone. My tendrils seek but no longer find.
I must take my fulfilment in other ways. Give thanks for the sunlight and warm rain, the cooling breeze and rick brown loam – the givers of life. Take pleasure from sharing, knowing that I provide for a rich community. That gives me fulfilment enough. My body affords shelter, food and a place for many thousands of families and individuals to grow and prosper. That is sufficient – has to be sufficient. What more could one want from life? To give to others without desire for reciprocation? That is what makes a life well spent.
That has to be enough.
The juice rises. My consciousness bursts back into life. I am aware once more. The wonder is upon me. I delight. I live again.
Now is the time for me to bud and blossom for yet another cycle, to grow, to renew and quietly relax into the rhythm of life. I am saturated with wonder, full of optimism. I live again. The feeling is intoxicating. I am awakening again into this wondrous universe.
One more cycle. One more miracle. One more opportunity. Life.
My revitalised delight is interrupted. A whirring sound. I sense it as a mechanical throb that vibrates through the air, throbbing through the soil to send dread through my tendrils. Metal bites into my flesh.