Have we come to an end of the page? Is there really an end? What exactly is the end? What is the point of doing anything if there is this dreaded end? Why do we dread the end?
Questions piled upon questions, many of them forever unanswered. The human body returns to the dust, yet when we die, we say it is the end of life. Indeed, that statement is quite wrong; in fact, for the body now returns to the soil, and it shall nourish a tree. That tree shall provide air for us to breathe and relief from the heat of the day. The body only changes; its parts spread across the world. It becomes part of the cycle once again, no longer held by our possession. Is there really an end to the novel? There may be an end to the page, but the new blank pages magically appear in your mind at the conclusion of the written story. Speculation begins, and the wonder of what is happening to those characters may go on for many years. Sometimes life is torment. Are not those in hell what we call alive? Though they have no physical bodies, they are conscious. So, life goes on even in hell, and life goes on in heaven, natural life goes on in the world. Is the end not a blessing in a sense? Why would one want the show to go on forever? Would that not be torment? Indeed, it would be. Therefore, the actors fade away periodically until we meet them again. Death is inherent to life in the current sense.
Consider these thoughts.
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