A monk says you look at the glass.
It will break someday, you know
May be, there is nothing to look .
From a looking glass I ask myself
Is my poem my equipment to die
Or gratitude to live another day?
My looking glass shall lie broken
To moon-like pieces at a lavatory
And to left is sea reflecting them.
(After reading a thought-provoking article “Idols of Immortality ” by Jacob Rubin )