Oh, but that the annals of one’s life would be tasty:

That at the end, the lips would smack in delighted satisfaction.

The ingredients could matter less than the collective: the flavors, the experience, the satiation.

Would that we dined more readily on the life and lives that nourish us.

What if we enjoyed the bites as gifts?

We’d probs compliment the overall meal too.

‘Cause doesn’t the temporal, the earthy hold the deliciousness of worlds?

(Yes.)

Held, magical, at all.

What if we – each one – saw our own life and lives as such?

As a glorious repast, a necessary constant, complement?

What if we – each one – saw all others’ too, in such a way?

Savorable.

Relished.

Received.

Nourishing.

‘Cause we are:

Each life containing worlds of wonder:

This is the Way.

Walk in it.

Take your time, close your eyes in deep relishing enjoyment.

We are fed with the impossibility, the actuality, the wonder and bewildering, magical improbability of myriad number of flavors.

A banquet for the receptive palate of taking in life-at-all.

Food for the soul, for the body, for the living and dying that’s ours.

Life and its effects, its requirements, its delights…

Taste and see that it is good.

Taste and see…

And then sit back, wide smiled, expanded in contentment and gratitude for the full stomach’s filling.

And then share.

Invite another to the table.

Rummage through the pantry

In willing participation to the feast.

If we all shared and celebrated the eating, no one would go hungry.