Short story: The Zen master who liked to write poetry

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The old Zen master, Hartlick Verborski, was an old man now, but he still loved to write some poetry every now, and again. One day, he presented a poem to his students, saying to them that this was the very last poem that he will write. It was about death, and as the students read it, they realised that it was about their master's death. I have lived longer than most I have loved to live without a boast. Love never dies a death at all. I die to myself, not to enthral. If you miss me, I am still around. Life never should end before death. I have lived it as fully as I can. Do not grieve, as a clown clowns around. And so, I die out now, with a sigh. I never tried to be the wiser guy. I lived from God's supply of love. I lived so that in me, love multiplied. The very next day, the master took ill, and died. The old master was buried in the Monastery's cemetery, and his students added these words to his plaque. "Here lies our master, who wrote a poem each day, by the way that he lived his life." A light in their world had gone out, but their memories of their old master lived on in their hearts, until their lights went out too. Photo Credit: The photo used in this article was sourced from the free media site, pixabay.com Love is stronger than life, so strong, it allows death to happen.