Squirrel My Little Friend!

I watch your jumps from tree to tree with that bushy tail And your song I try to understand If I write this way Is it okay? Man raises his bony hands and questions from the dumb sky of his future? Sky's helpless as she cannot stop the clouds that wander here & there? Man tries to hide his wealth in the river But river flows to the sea ever? Man sketches his sky scrapers But nobody stays here and his offspring fly everywhere when they grown up Leaving the old sick parents there? a humble dedication to my poet friend Narain j.p! A Buddhist faces death not as a crisis in life but as a normal event, for he knows that whoever is born must suffer, 'decay', and ultimately die. Or, as someone so aptly puts it, 'Everyone is born with the certificate of death at his birth.' If we could all look at death such an intelligent and rational way, we would not cling to life so tenaciously. 'Ayamantima jatinatthidani punabbhavo' This is my final birth and there is no more rebirth for me. (Dhamma Cakka Sutta) . -The Buddha nimal dunuhinga