No epiglottis left,
Both breathing and swallowing everything,
Taking all into stomach and lungs.
Only then will you know every part of life
With every part of you.
A canvas of your living,
Painted in real time.
Move your arm,
One stroke of a brush,
Sweep your legs in an arc
One more brushstroke.
When body evicts soul,
And all your deeds extolled
Then your grand masterpiece will be unveiled
All colours layered and snuggling together
All blood stirred throughout.
Live a life that people years later,
Don’t stare at the framed article hanging
Saying, “I wonder what this one’s about.”
– Vagabond Prophet
Vagabond Prophet 