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Poem

because life is limited
men measure the length of life 
using the rulers marked to their own standard;
some cry, some sigh, some worry to death, while others, 
tremble with uncontrollable rage; yet they struggle to stretch 
their life as long as they can and hold onto it, though they know 
very well life is misery 

the poor kneel down at dawn in front of unknown divine spirits,
offering freshly drawn water and begging for relief from
dire poverty and for a better life; 
the rich are hanging onto the elixir of eternal life,
which was tens of thousands of years of constant exertions to discover;  
but the ends are the same, every one most go someday and that’s why, though not of own will, but with closed resigning eyes submit to death 

and that makes me wonder why pathetic life is not worth 
stretching or reincarnating though, everyone is hanging onto 
an illusory hope that is thinner than a spider web 
agonizing to extend it; 

no matter how large sum the money you spend
there is no miracle drug warrants for eternal life;
no matter how much you cry at the top of your voice
there is no spirit would hear your cry; 
every life, poor or rich, must go one day

why doesn’t anyone admit themselves that every life is destined 
from birth to die? all are dwelling on this side of the river 
for a while and time comes most cross the river. they step on 
the stepping stones that extend to the eternal world laying 
beyond yonder horizon. even though this world may be a challenging place to live for a while.

last night, I saw many souls crossing over the stepping stones
to the other side of the world, they looked so pathetic because
they were dragging their feet with drooping shoulders as if cows  
taken to a slaughterhouse

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