6

we wear roles
under the name of ‘identity’,
that those become our lives.
just like donning a fur coat
under the blazing sun
what is burried within swelters.
and yet, undressing feels shameful
or even a sin.
our steps get slow,
slower and heavier
with the weight of the load.
but death takes off our clothing by force
and a universe captivated in time
opens up to timelessness
stark naked and sublime.
the eternal life within
takes a fresh breath
in death.