It's wicked to mock the afflicted

I pine for the salt mines of Canada, because I heard a reporter on the radio describe its beauty. Cathedrals of salt carved for decades upon decades below the great lakes. I pine for Missoula, Montana because there's a good pub there and it's in a state I know nothing about. I pine for the Muslim Hajj to make the circumambulations of the Kaaba, because I want to know that sense of universal brotherhood. I want to speak a thousand languages and I want to meet a thousand people who speak those languages. I want wring from heaven and that Stingy creator at least as many lives a cat has been given. There is too much to do, to see, to be, to feel, to know, to understand, to express, to experience, to love, to have and I don't want to miss a thing. That is why life is suffering because it is never enough. We are limited to one experience and that measly but infinite gift is pinned to a single point in time. We only have the experience of now and fading ribbons of memory. To waste one tiny speck of allotted time panics my soul and I frantically search for some experience to devour.