I must break it to you now, young old man
(Do not cup your bat ears)
That everything you think is anything
Is nothing at all when the trumpet sounds.
The family your roots that you so cherish
Will be gone when darkness comes.
The friends that gather at your feet
Will forget the sound of your name.
The lovers that swear love everlasting
Will have nothing more to say.
The beauty that smiles back at you at daybreak
Will be erased down the line of envious Time.
The values you think define Edward Ong
Will be reduced to senseless blip nothing.
The pleasures of the skin, the pain in the bones,
The joy in your heart, the misery in your guts,
The ecstasy of living, the delirium of sex,
The firmness of your devotion to all things,
The moments, this very moment of your being –
Will be in time replaced by
A blackness so absolute
No meaning could escape therefrom…
Unless you learn to dwell in Prajna –
SUNYATA, SUNYATA, SUNYATA –
The echoes of transience
That come in the night to signify
The beginning of the end of the beginning.
18.12.15 Phuket, Thailand