What tomorrow

For to this brings?

Not today

Before another and the Way

For to his

Not mine own?

Shed thy skin

Of before and clung to unknown

For another has complete

But maybe left undone?

Serpents strike, slithers

Passed, gazing once more

Sharpened tongue

Muted breath

Another cycle comes to an end

To death

Born again yet the same.

~Ani Po