Pluck out the arrow of desire.
For he who is awake
Has shown you the way of peace.
Give yourself to the journey.
'Here shall I make my dwelling,
In the summer and the winter,
And in the rainy season.'
So the foolish make plans,
Sparing not a thought for death.
Death overtakes one
Who, giddy and distracted by the world,
Cares only for their children, their property,
Death fetches them away
As a flood carries off a sleeping village.
Nobody can save one from death,
Not the father nor the sons.
Seek wisdom, and purity.
Quickly clear the way."
Thus every life is a preparation for the next death. If someone is wise, he or she will use this life to the best advantage and prepare for a good death. The best death is the one that is the last, that is not a junction but a terminus: the death of an arahant. Here there will be no track on which the train can run further; but until such a terminus is reached, one can at least ensure that the next death gives rise to a good birth and that the terminus will be reached in due course. It all depends on us, on our own efforts. We are makers of our own future, we create our own welfare or misery as well as our own liberation."