The Art of Washing a Bowl.

My sweet eye;

Eat for it makes you whole;

Drink deep, for life takes its toll,

When the reaper comes to ask you:

Did you wash your bowl?

My dearest seeker;

Pause not for hope of certainty,

For the reaper comes to ask:

Did you wash your bowl?

Dream not of dreaming cheerfully,

For the reaper comes whispering:

Did you wash your bowl?

Chase not pictures,

For meaning lies in water pitchers;

And the reaper comes smiling:

Did you wash your bowl?

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