The Spiritual Gutter

The rain pitter patters outside my bedroom window. Striking with a slap, as the water pounds the outside pavement. I think long and hard about my longing and about my needs. Yesterday, I stood in front of the Buddhist temple in Chinatown. I watched and prayed. I saw men connect with God, yet I felt nothing. Nothing but anticlimax, I am on the outside looking in. Why can't I feel good about life's little lessens? I often feel like I'm on the outside looking in, deep in a spiritual gutter.