Remember, the art of letting go,
is in letting go of the art.
Or, as a child might say,
were there any need,
Love is free, work is play,
and there is nothing but this day.
Is suffering, as much as any thing,
not that to which we cling?
And if not, what of identity?
Can I be free,
and still, be me?
Both ripe fruit fallen, and the tree?