Breadth is always passing
Breathing in...
Breathing out...
Yet, we don't name each breadth
We don't evaluate every breadth
We don't ruminate on a breadth from ten minutes ago
We don't get jealous of someone else's breadth
We don't strive for very impressive breadth, so that others will envy us
How is my furniture any different?
How are my clothes any different?
How are accomplishments any different?
All will pass, be gone and forgotten
All of my possessions will erode away
falling from their position
like sand in an hour glass
I see my life as but just one breadth
I see my worries as but the blink of an eye
What is time, but a traveling donkey
No concerns, for the passing artifacts
No concern, for the flashing signs
Only treading along, stepping in the feces of the donkey ahead
Knowing that this too will pass
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