The stinky shit
and the rotting dead
we abhor –
yet these are the horn of plenty

Can we learn to love
the smell of healthy shit?
How hard can it be?
We already learned to tolerate
polluted shit.

Everything new
is born out of shit,
sprouts up from old ashes and bones.

The old body is gone,
thanks to beetle and worm:
Out of steaming dung,
the new being is born.

Every birth is a chance for change
and every death a reckoning.

Life in its glory
dies and lives on,
ever renewed,
ever fresh,
ever aging,
ever stinky.