The Way

My friend tells me

This life and the next

Are the same

Mixed pieces of crumpling bark

Tacked to the same tree

When he asks how he knows

He says he just does

Not that he wanted to, but

One day

The way told him

It was the Way

As for me

I don’t know that I don’t know

But when I come back

Will I forget the question?

Or just live the answer?

Let anyone know this:

I’m willing to try

Again and again

Even if I get it right

Which is not expected

If you help me

I won’t tell