I saw an interesting book titled "Japanese Death Poems" at the book store this weekend. It is a collection of poems translated from monks and samurai, who have written poems on the day of their death. Apparently, it is quite a tradition. There are some very beautiful poems in that book.

Here is a poem that I wrote, heh, however, it is not my death poem:

It's not the body
It's not the imagination
It's not the emotions
It's not the mind
It's not the unconscious
What is it?
Look where it is not
and you will find It