What have you done with your imperfect life,

longing for the everyday sublime

without breathing in the moment?

If you’re lucky, you once had a taste of bliss,

the unconditional love that only a mother gives.

There’s no other perfect love

and you can’t get everything you want.

Stop whining about the pain of living

and wake up to the fact that living is dying.

The real challenge is the one-way journey

when you ascend alone in a fading light.

You climb higher and higher

with a belly full of well-digested life

as if you never heard of getting ready

for the Happy Birthday of Death.

No one ever gives you proper warning

for the losses you know growing old.

The pendulum swings faster and faster,

as you ask: “Is that all there is?”

Get ready to start practicing the work

of dying , facing loneliness and boredom,

when you can finally be yourself

as you catapult toward the dark.

If you’re patient as moss living off stone,

loving family and friends will be your Sherpas

to help you reach the summit, awakening you

to a golden eternity where only ephemera lasts.