Is living a process or a purpose?
Is dying beginning of the road, or end?
To live for a purpose is to raise the purpose above living, to monitor living by the purpose.
To live for the sake of living is to cut the goose for golden eggs.
One who pays any price for living, can not tell the difference between
dinner and the dinner plate, the clay-pot and the pot-clay.
One who does not pay any price for living, asks his cook to make him
a cup of coffee with no coffee.
Can you live truthfully without a truth, and lie without denying it ?
Can you make a dish without dressing that which it is made of,
or dress that without a pan on fire ?
Can you have an eagle without a sky, and a sky without a distance from earth ?
Can you have a child without childhood, and a mother without motherhood ?
And yet we talk of ends and means, when neither can manifest without the other.
And yet we talk of becoming apart from being, while we hardly know one from the other.
Words are weeds, thoughts a bounded pool;
Roads to arriving mirror the arrival.
The beginning a blur in end, end a blur at start
Like eternity and time, each of the other a part.
The intervening space an entertaining tale,
That connects the ends, and ends the tale.