Who are you to be attached to anything when you can't truly like or hate anything?

Poets are made to be vendors of peace.

Avoid touching or prodding anything; if you do, itchy life dust fragments will stick to your skin. Instead, veer over to the side

Lose all you can in this life.
However, if the sagging smile on your face draws all soul-eating spirits to you, you will crown your defeats with glory.

When thou gave up on desire, the slayer of common sense, thou attained greatness.

The chicken crows with pride.

The Sun, predictably, ascends.

The  guy in charge of the chicken's fate chopped its neck, stripped its feathers, and hung it in front of his shop.

Some of the village's ever-lazy and hungry residents walked into the store and gorged themselves on the chicken pieces. They sank to the floor and instinctively gripped their chest.

The chemeleon perched on the compound wall like a bully, ran to the backyard closet to avoid the predictable turmoil that ensued.