all life is dukkha,
me, filling tiny vials of time from the lost station,
you, joining dots between here and Andromeda
as broken radars mourn absent aeroplanes,
moonlight yogi walks into speechless mist;
alas! alas! for the sailorman is dead!
the hawser snaps, the sail in shreds!
who will face the void now?
who will stare into its eyes?
black bird in green island chirps of peace,
white bird in gray island waits for love,
and the other bird, the one that knows magic -
there's no way to tell what it does:
because the city in the sky is but the city of life as seen in dreams;
and, because all life is dukkha