understand that the body
is merely the foam of a wave,
the shadow of a shadow.
snap the flower arrows of desire
and then, unseen,
escape the king of death.
and travel on.
death overtakes the man
who gathers flowers
when with distracted mind and thirsty senses
he searches vainly for happiness
in the pleasures of the world
death fetches him away
as a flood carries off a sleeping village.
(i rediscovered my copy of the dhammapada today. almost immediately upon reading its words, i began to feel indescribably better than i have felt in weeks)