The machinizations of this world mean nothing to me.
The color of the clouds and land as they always were….
always vibrant in their validity, and never obvious when I die.

I have been here before, fought here before, won and lost
I have been many things great and small and when I come back
“When I come back” I said, “I’ll do it different next time”
but I often never do.

I can see, how some people find this life beautiful;
with its many expressions of colors that man could never make
even if he knew how to, build it in metal, in art, in music—
never could he create the natural ingredient of what it takes
to know the true atom.

And when I am gone, the world will continue to unfold
in its origami of black and white, of peace and wars which will be
fought until the earth turns over, from red to blue.

I am finished, I have always finished
but I come back, and I keep coming back
as I wake up each day, wondering…

It is today, that I say to the hour, to the overcast sky
to the after-rain, pavement and stretches of earth
that I am waking up
because I can no longer deny that I

have chosen

Life.

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by Ji Rising/ Blogasana.com