On Death, without Exaggeration
It can't take a joke,
find a star, make a bridge.
It knows nothing about weaving, mining, farming,
building ships, or baking cakes.
In our planning for tomorrow,
it has the final word,
which is always beside the point.
It can't even get the things done
that are part of its trade:
dig a grave,
make a coffin,
clean up after itself.
Preoccupied with killing,
it does the job awkwardly,
without system or skill.
As though each of us were its first kill...
Beyond time, beyond life ...
Dust you are and to dust you shall return - reincarnation?
I'm probably born... and I will try not to die... but I am sure that I will not succeed...
Back to photo gallery: Death is all around us