I once had a garden

lush and pink

that i'd water and care for

This was many decades ago

Now I have a patch of sand

where I grow rocks

and rake sometimes

When I die I will be dust

and though I have been broken all my life

every bit of me will coalesce in dust

and invisible to the human eye

I will be seen only through the mirage

of a zen contemplation

where I am raked and loaded with rocks

Dust, sand, rocks, sand

and may some gardener there

engrave on my back in all that sand

any worries he may have

and plant a big white rock

where his thoughts join 

and so for decades to come

after this life

may I be the canvas of zen

somewhere in a garden