I breathed in and breathed out — and where is life?
It is felt only at the joints.
As a result of efforts small or great
Memory is preserved, all the rest is trash.

I built
And it fell,
I traveled, I ate it up.
I had
What I wanted,
And it was gone.
At the end I said:

“I was born with nothing,
With nothing I depart.
Like the WORD, like smoke.
Scattered by it
In the archives of BEING I CAN dissolve.”