The journey has been long. Birth has pained me. Becoming has pained me. Returning to the dust from whence I came would finish me yet there I began again.
Could it be that we turn on this eternal wheel like some mad, crazed hamster running, running and running only to find ourselves back where we started.
What is this method to the madness? This wretched hell we call life. As if we are to be thankful for this ride on this rogue rock whirling through the vortex at speeds that dizzy.
Gods may not play dice but this sorted tale is beyond the unthinkable. It is the highest crime. It is madness I protest.