
Friends, the disappointing mystery of life is revealed towards its end. It is rather a dastardly act I know but it is understandable. If humans knew near the beginning of their lives what they know near the end, then we might’ve ceased to exist long, long ago.
Most forms of life get about the business of living their lives without questioning. Some insects have a few days. Some have a few weeks. Other creatures have months and years. They are born, some reach puberty, then they procreate like crazy, and die. Their progeny then continue the meaningless cycle of life and everything is ordered as nature intended.
But humans, some of whom are endowed with a bit of intelligence and a larger than usual brain, have an expectation of living for three-score years and ten. They have the ability to look at themselves, at their world, at the universe, and, eventually, ask, "Why?" This capacity is what brings us undone, especially as we age and grim reality of all existence dawns.








