Muddy Life

Getting through the muddy terrain in our journey called life is hard. Sluggishly you wade through the thick and heavy brown substance hoping that you would eventually reach to solid dry land. But the sun makes a grand appearance today. The mud, which was once thick but fluid, is now dry and hard. You’re stuck. Your limps are now bounded to the earth and your progress has come to a halt. The days are hotter and the air becomes so dry that your sweat doesn’t have the opportunity to bead down your face. Bad breathe and strong body odor is worsen as your lips and skin prunes to the intensity of the sun. Dehydration begins to take control and you only day dream of better times as the mirages of oasis taunts you.

Without warning the dark menacing clouds race across the sky. There is no light and the only thing that can be heard is the growling stomach of the storm. The air begins to cool and the wind begins to blow, feeding you the dry and dusty ground. One drop falls. One drop crashes and spills when it hits the ground. One drop is the call, the call of millions to come. No tapping can be heard, for the earth is like a parasite feeding on the water of life. The shout of freedom roars in the distance. It grows louder and louder, as the drops call forth its brothers. Cool spikes of water begin to penetrate your body, healing the cracks of the earth and your sun burnt skin. Tongue outstretched like starved baby bird, you begin to taste every drop of life from the pouring heavens. The roar of freedom is upon you. Drenched in the clear and refreshing liquid of life, you’re energized for the final fight. Pulling and tugging, twisting and digging, you fight your way out of the softening earth. You eagerly emerge from your prison and run free like a slave with broken shackles. Run to the solid ground, where the earth wouldn’t fail you. Run before the prison reclaims your soul. Run, for it is your only hope. Run for you have been given a second chance.