The 'Spirit'ual Emptiness of a Monk

Death

After the third peg, it rained.
When the last drop of water
Fell off the tip of my nose,
There appeared a sunflower field
That stretched to the horizon.
On the other side stood the
Pristine, immaculate figure
Who made me wonder once,
‘Can life be this beautiful or
Is it just another stupid dream?’
As she came forward, I could see
The gleefully moistened eyes and
The fine curves on her cascading tresses.
In her husky voice that gave me sleepless
Nights she whispered playfully,
“Come to me, come to me…”

The Standard Answer

“It was wrong, what I did.
I feel guilty and it gnaws
Me sharp. You know, the
Pain is unbearable…”
Suddenly, as if annoyed
By my silence, he turned to
Me and grabbed me by the shoulders.
Shaking me violently, he asked,
“Do you think that what I did was right?”
Shifting my gaze from the ground
Beneath to his eyes,I gave him
The standard answer that contained
The word, ‘relative’.
Were I wrong?