Zen and the Art of Cosmic Graffiti

Midnight in the cosmos
Armed with infinite cans
Of quantum-entangled paint
I tag the void with questions

What is the sound
Of one can spraying?
(pssssshhhhht)
Into nebular mist

The Way is tagged on no wall
Yet walls keep appearing
Just to hold my wisdom
Before dissolving into stardust

Buddha nature in hot pink
Across the rings of Saturn
“Your original face”
In dripping ultraviolet

Security guards of reality
Chase me through dimensions
But how can they catch
What was never there?

Each tag a temporary truth
Each piece a passing koan
“If you meet the artist on the road
Paint over them”

Black holes become canvases
For day-glo enlightenment
While supernovas spell out
“THIS TOO SHALL PASS”

My finest work:
An empty space
Where nothing needed
To be said

The masters would laugh
Or maybe throw shoes
At my neon dharma
My spray-can sutras

But even now
The cosmic winds blow
Stellar erosion begins
And the stars erase my words

Nothing remains
Except the eternal question:
Who is the tagger
When the universe itself
Is already perfect graffiti?