We’re born.

We live.

We die.

There’s no script, no tempo, no messaging until we get to a certain age and then the music starts.

And, it’s nearly always the same.

“Can I have some more?”

Never less than before; never just enough; and never, how do I give back more than I take?

At some stage, we’ll run out of everything. And I mean everything.

What then?

Have you even thought about it?

Should you?

Perhaps it doesn’t bother you, but it sure as hell will bother those that follow in your oh-so-weary footsteps.

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