Aging, Death, and What Really Lasts — The Dhammapada

How can you laugh when the world keeps burning? Buddha asks why people in darkness do not look for light. He tells you to look at the body. It is a dressed-up lump, full of wounds and sickness, with no real strength. White bones sit like gourds thrown away in autumn. Even a stronghold made of bones and covered with flesh becomes a home for old age, death, pride, and lies.

Kings' shiny chariots rot away, and the body breaks down too. But good people's virtue never breaks down. Someone who learns little grows old like an ox: the flesh grows bigger, but wisdom does not. Then comes the big change. The maker of the body-house is seen. The rafters break. The ridge-pole splits. The mind moves toward peace and desire ends.

Those who wasted their youth, who skipped discipline and stored no treasure, die like herons on a lake with no fish. They lie like broken bows, sighing over what they never built. Bodies fade. What you build inside you is what still helps when the body fails.