Park Inn

    you wake up one day
        and in the mirror see
            an old man gray
                sipping his last cup of green tea

    the thought scurries through
        is there existence behind this mortal pane?
            a place devoid of struggle and pain -
                a stillness where beauty reigns?

    I know not nor any longer care
        the ways of men or their fare
    what alone is clear -
        is that here is now -
            and now is here
                or is it?

    the slope is steep -
        my cycle slows
            i dare not sleep
                i can but wait -
                    what next illusion
                        fills my fate