The transitory nature of life is like dew on the grass.
The impermanence of friends is like meeting travelers on the road.
The impermanence of wealth is like the honey of bees.
One’s homeland is like a king’s jail, trapping you in conventionality.
Trungpa, Chogyam. Milarepa: Lessons from the Life and Songs of Tibet's Great Yogi (p. 197). Shambhala.