Death comes softly.
Like a welcome friend.
You have waited long for this moment.
The death of something stubborn.
Attached and grasping.
It falls into the abyss.
Down. Down. Down.
Out with the cold wind of night.
The Bodhi tree welcomes the dawn.
The clatter of a heron's wings rising from
The silent bubble of a brooding brook.
The song of morning; the last sound you hear.
Then tears and the end of memory.
Hope and doubt are gone
Certainty; the remains of the day.
Fear will not hold you in her grip.
Money can't seduce you.
Vice will disown you.
You will die to the last of yourself.
The flames from the cinders of your funeral pyre
shall lick at the sky,
Dance and swirl over foreign waters.
Until the phoenix remembers to wake from its restless
The end is behind us;
The end of puzzles, the end of time.
Dreams scattered far and wide.
After the sacrifice...
Will be revealed to he who is born to see
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