Born, we’re afraid to die, so shamed by kittens,
whose lively eyes sparkle with joyful peace,
never thinking foolishly like us, who tremble
day and night struggling to insure against death.

The more we think, the more we suffer and imbed fear,
compounding our suffering with layers of confusion.
Getting older, we worry even more, drafting friends
and cronies to pray against death, yet keeping our fear.

How to conquer death never crosses such minds,
carrying on mindlessly, a silly sight to behold,
being Buddhist yet clutching at their “selves,”
hearts quaking in dread of death — shamed by kittens.