Sitting at the juice bar, one fine sunny day,
met a cool guy—called himself Ray.
We got to talking, about food and health and stuff,
he said he liked his bounty in the rough.
Feeling ignorant, I asked, “What do you mean?”
as I noticed, he appeared quite strong and lean.
“Raw food,” he said, “is the only way to go.”
I had to admit, he had quite a glow,
bright clear eyes—a look of confidence.
“Cooked food is dead,” he said, “It’s just common sense,
kills the life force, and every living enzyme,
wish we could talk more,” he said, “but I’m all out of time.”
So off he went, but left me quite certain,
my diet, I now knew, was causin’ all my hurtin’.
So raw I went, filled my home with sprouts and fruits,
grabbed the tofu, rice, and beans, and gave it all the boot.
Felt strong, light, and clear—oh, so fast,
I was committed—goodbye to poisons of the past!
Got so excited, told everyone I knew,
“I’ve found the key to happiness—you can do it too!”
They looked at me quite strangely, but what did they know?
So full of toxins, their brains are kinda slow,
to all that junk food, they can’t say no,
leaves their colons hangin’, heavy and low.
Several months later, lucky my fate,
ran into Ray again, helped me validate,
how righteous I was on this path of mine.
Ray himself was fasting—now on day nine!
“Raw food is key,” he said, “but hardly enough,
we need to fast, to clean out all the bad stuff.”
So home I went, tossed out all my food,
imagining my intestines, becoming all unglued.
Began my fast, ignoring warnings from my wife,
showed her Shelton’s book: Fasting Can Save Your Life!
She still didn’t get it, so I offered a clue:
“Jesus and Gandhi did it; they knew what to do.”
Two weeks later, and ten pounds lighter,
so cleansed I glowed, eyes never brighter.
But months later, and my vibrancy receded,
cravings and addictions of the past, crying to be heeded.
Feeling disappointed, not yet quite pure.
Was this the path? No longer was I sure.
I needed support, and this was my lucky day,
for who do I run into, but my good friend Ray!
Helped me confirm, “just a healing crisis,” he said,
but then I noticed, his eyes a bit red.
“What’s up Ray,” I asked, “you couldn’t be sick?”
“I’m fine, just fine,” he answered real quick.
“Silly thought,” I laughed, “of course you’re okay.”
“Just detoxing,” he mumbled, and quickly walked away.
One year later, was when I hit the wall,
weak or not, I had to heed the call.
Dyin’ for something cooked—Mexican sounded terrific,
or Thai or Chinese—but would it make me sick?
“I don’t care,” I cried, “gotta have it now,”
baked, fried, or barbecued, I didn’t care how.
Made sure no one saw me, looked up and down the street,
entered a buffet, sign said “All You Can Eat!”
Didn’t give doubt a chance—didn’t hesitate,
right to the food, filled a heaping, steaming plate.
What remained of guilt receded with that first bite.
How delicious—tasted oh so right!
Then, I couldn’t believe it, at first he looked away,
but eating at the very next table, was my good friend Ray!!
Our eyes met—a moment of shame,
I even felt pissed off—him I wanted to blame.
Then a huge smile slowly lit his face,
I felt all my anger disappear without a trace,
we stared in silence, giddy with the grace.
“Beat ya for seconds,” I cried; we grabbed our plates in a race.
We ran like children who never knew of guilt,
beautiful sculptures of delicacies on each plate we built.
We sat down together, Ray said, “You know,
raw food’s great, but I hadda say, Whoa!
When we get so focused on what we need to eat,
friends, family, and fun take a back seat.”
The waitress came by; I ordered a round of beers,
“I’m so tired,” I said, “of living life in fear,
I got so thin and yin, haven’t had sex in years!”
We laughed so hard, our eyes filled with tears.
“Seems we got too rigid,” said Ray, “our lives trying to perfect,
as if we joined some zealots, in some cult or crazy sect.
Moderation, balance, perhaps this is the key.”
“Except for today,” I said, “more food and beer for me!”
No more depriving my beautiful bod,
“Who says we can’t eat our way to God?”