Your brush might move about with great ease,
And in stature you might be tremendously huge.
Still, being alive, you're limited with your bones and flesh,
But dead, you will become a nameless shade.
From ancient times, like this there’ve been so many;
If you, sir, strive against it now, what good would that do?
However, you can come to join me in the white clouds,
Where I’ll teach you the violet fungi's hymn of eternity.
* * * * * * * * *
By divining I’ve chosen a secluded place to live—
The deep mountains—there’s nothing further to say.
Monkeys screams ring out thru the dale mist and cold;
The scene of peak—my straw door merges with its tint.
I pick off banana leaves to roof my shelter in the pines;
I build a pool, digging gullies away from the spring.
Staying aloof from all troublesome issues and matters,
I gather ferns to drag out the rest days of my life.
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Diana...
Ron