Ode to Humanity

I am on mountaintops, tucked in forsaken alleyways, immersed in day-long binges, soaked through from the rain, craving water;
fixing plumbing, tightening pipes, scrubbing toilets until they gleam with the fire of the desert sun I sweat under for the sole purpose of taking the same touristy picture smeared across a thousand postcards;
wandering on deserted city sidewalks illuminated by flickering streetlamps, wandering across nonexistent trailheads under forest canopies, wandering through flat seas guided by the stars;
spending time with children, watching their eyes fill with wonder, wondering where my own wonder went -- where it wandered;
bound to sewing machines and cubicles, furnaces and office spaces, shop counters and laboratories, exchanging life for life while telling myself stories to the contrary;
coughing up blood on dusty roads, running marathons through city-sanctioned boulevards, mastering the use of crutches, slaloming down alpine slopes;
worshipping in cathedrals, synagogues, mosques, temples, petitioning inconsequential causes before a million different gods;
killing myselves in service of countless shifting motives, -- lurid voices, noble causes, petty squabbles -- and burying myselves under elaborate tombstones and forgotten graveyards;
stuck at broken turnstiles, defective vending machines, busted laptops, where my toe-tapping belies a lofty and prideful destiny.

I am working, resting, weeping, laughing, grieving, celebrating, studying, relaxing.
I am humanity.