Last week I recounted the story of The Monk & the General, and promised a follow-up that might help illuminate the Zen take on death. Zen teacher Kozan Ichikyo finished this poem, then died sitting upright with the brush still in his hand: bq. Empty-handed I entered the world Barefoot I leave it. My coming, my going – Two simple happenings That got entangled. Zen Masters often compose such poems on their deathbed, as Ichikyo did. A summa for a life, and one final teaching lesson.