A Contemplation

I was once a baby. With a baby’s mind.

I was once a boy. With a boy’s mind. With a boy’s problems.

I was once a teenager. With a teenager’s mind. With a teenager’s problems.

I am now an adult. With an adult’s mind. With an adult’s problems.

I will soon be an old man. With an old man’s mind. With an old man’s problems.

Nothing about the body or the mind ever remains the same.

So how can I fear death when the baby, the boy and the teenager have already gone?

All things change. All the time. The body. These thoughts. This experience. The surroundings, the relationships, the problems.

Have I not already died and changed form countless times?

What, then, is there to fear?