In life,
there’s no such thing
as a mistake..
only a happy little
accident, you see.
In either case,
you end up on some
wabi-sabi branch
upon God’s happy little
painted tree.

The joy of painting
lies in radical acceptance
of whichever branch
you ultimately get.
I have been trying,
dammit, but I do not think
that I have gotten there..
quite yet.

This existentialist
Nirvana is elusive..
every time
I think I’ve reached it,
I relapse
into the cycle
of Samsara
yet again..

and curse at God
and wash His brush
and try to beat
The Devil out of it..
only for God to dip it
into crimson red
upon his mixing palette..
yet again.