It is right that this pen I’m writing with is running low.
Death and lack.
The emptying and the return.
It is right to strip away the façade and see what’s left.
What is left?
The answer depends on what you’ve chosen to believe,
what you’ve chosen to commit your foundation to.
Thus there are billions of answers.
For me, behind the veneer of entertainment and comfort,
frivolities and seeming essentials, there is a creative force, an infinite love.
It includes death and surpasses it.
This love is not afraid of death.

As I write this, geese honk in the distance, unseen.

© Meisaan Chan