Fearsome Furrows

On my forehead,
an angry, yet sad expression
of wrinkles on
the bare patch of skull
above my angled brows.

It's hard to think about what you
want
when you can't
have
it.

My sandcastle glistens white
clean sand of fine grit
wet to mud and plastered
to walls and parapets.
But as the sun's countenance hides
itself under blanket of dark
the cool water moves in
and floods the Royal Chambers.

This is Impermanence
The source of suffering is want
To remove want
is to remove suffering.
even wants are impermanent.

The most
beautiful
face
furrows
and
wrinkles
and
dies.

And it is beautiful all the while.