It’s an unfortunate coincidence
That we end up with nothing
The moment we die
Only a last thought
A waking memory
On the border of this and that
Neither here or there
Shivering, anxious
In a cold sweat at the start
Of the greatest of endings
And there, in a note
Of the purest surrender
We find ourselves buried
Time flying into the future
Where we possess our
Spiritual necessity
It’s our naked privilege
Then, to be ourselves
Knowing, we are on
Our way to becoming
More ourselves every day
Every lifetime, it’s inevitable
And like, an aglorithm
Of soul training itself
On the Big Data of
A thousand lifetimes.
Beautiful poem. 🙂
Thank you Gigi!
😊
So beautifully resignedly put.Thank you.
I love this, Wuji! Great job…
I appreciate that cmrs
You’re welcome, and it’s Christopher…