The sun overhead
screaming out color and light and sight
the ground, from below
holding you to its
own volition
the air you breathe
being remade over
and again

it seems like what you know
you will forget
sometime
and it seems that who you are
can change
day to day
the money you make
and the people you meet
will never last forever
something will fuck up

is it just cynicism
or realism
or just the
way things are?

that we all die
and our life
moot as it may be
will weave itself
an amazing tapestry of life
of love and friends
and food
with colors abound

our life will be a mandala
of time
and instinct and pleasure
make
and remake itself
just to be destroyed
in an instant
in ritual