The cycle ends here

So this is what it feels like.
To be free from being
the bereaved husband,
the teacher, the poet
or the foreigner.
Draped in the roots
of suffering, day after day.
I thought I would stay a while.
And learn how to conquer
the three knowledges.
If you don’t mind?
If you do.
All that drags me
back is now cut.
And I’ll be on my way.

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