A friend asked, “Where would you like to be buried when you die?”
While he looked to the ground
My eyes lingered upon the sky—
“The verdant grass makes me itch
While the bluest ocean is too deep...
The void meanwhile is quiet and without any life...
Isn't it perfect place to rest after I die?”
He laughed and said, ”That's crazy!”
And I thought:

You are the crazy
To live in this world of weary
And not escape, but instead be buried—
In my death I want to be free.