I keep digging in my garden
and the clouds, overhead, are dark and black
my shovel, digs a hole, the size of a man.
I could go to China
but I don’t want to
How did it come to this?
the toil of life is fleeting
any gold we bury,
is put where it belongs, where it came from
and perhaps, that’s why, it feels so good
to bury gold underground
in its proper place
beneath, black soil.
the sweat and futility of my situation
the investment, that vanishes
digging holes for other people
digging their foundations,
taking orders, and listening to their plans
My hope grows weary,
as I bury, their money, underground.
Each of us, is digging our own grave
whether we lie down in it, or keep digging
It’s not so much that we will die, but what we leave behind
We fertilize it, with our remains
Do we sow the seeds of bitterness
or do we plant a faithful tree?
There is no conquering,
because, the worm, conquers, all.
Will you be remembered as a man
as you step-out into faith?
Maybe faith is foolish
but without it
Man, you can get angry
at this whole world
but nothing is more honorable than he who accepts his fate
You have to bury yourself
and do the last rights
because that’s better than being picked apart by animals.
Living is hard, and dying is easy
so, we do what is hard, and we don’t try to make it easy
that day will come
like a beautiful surprise
like the day you were born.
Your life should be a work of art
Who you become
It’s so easy to forget that
to forget, you will die
and it’s not what you can harvest
but how you help others, live
It’s not about being remembered
but doing the best that you can
there’s humility in this hole
we should never forget that
we should look around at the anonymous faces
so we can recognize, the opportunities.
If you glorify yourself
the damage you do, is hidden, to you
because you only see yourself.
because you can’t measure yourself
by the faults of others
You can’t be fair
by giving others
what they give you
What you give