The Acts of Gods

His night was spent in a sleeping bag that was too narrow to curl up in on a mountain that was
too cold to lay straight on. When morning came and relieved him from his bout with the night
he unzipped the tent door, an action that always seemed odd to him. Of all the things one could
fasten and unfasten with a zipper a door seemed the least practical. But the early morning
mountain air took all trivial thought away. It was heavy and cold, yet yielding to the sun more
with each breath. After a night confined to the air in the tent its sheer magnitude startled him. It
was like drinking and breathing all at once. He thought that is how gods must feel. Every breath
an act of consumption. Constantly eating, breathing, drinking. Conquest and consumption. The
acts of gods. But it was morning and this flirtation with godly pleasure was interrupted by the
call of his human demands. Walking 30 yards from his tent he found a suitable spot. Releasing
this potential energy, its magnitude having increased during the fitful night, in a great steaming
arc he thought the all consuming gods may be just as jealous of his simple relief.

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