One number out of a handful,
something that in another world would seem trivial. Material wealth,
opportunity, the worth that is in fact worthless in comparison to what our
lottery deals in. We are each given our tickets regardless of who we are –
there is no choice in the matter. To be born is to play, the great game in
which our number is called and death comes to claim us.
What is won? Victory is measured
only in what is gained, in which case the only true victor is he who carries
nothing with him. If one carries hopes, thoughts, ideas, the curiosities that
have plagued mankind since its inception – they are lost, and thus death
becomes a defeat. Less there are, but not by much, who carry so little in their
minds that when death comes, they do not even realize their stalemate with the
great unknown before them. Ignorance is said to be bliss, and there are those
so ignorant they overlook even their happinesses.
But rarer still, the least of which
are there who think without loss. To finally die and accept whatever answer lies
beyond life, that is the only way to accept victory – that is what death truly
is.
Death shares its victory with all of
us, yet more familiar is mankind with victory of oneself than victory in truth.
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