There are so many lifetimes in one life... when one feels one has lived enough, done enough, borne enough... but death is only once... that feeling of peace and closure and silence one craves for... one pursues... but ever so elusive...what is right... what is wrong... everything seems meaningless... not to the purpose... where does it all go... king and pawn go into the same box... is there any justice? nobody knows... not in this lifetime... or so many lifetimes in one...and not in this one, then does it matter... does anything matter... do you matter.... do I matter... does good matter.... what is good? nobody knows...what does it matter? does good receive good? no... probably not in this lifetime... and if not this, then does it matter... they say ego is bad...isn't ego all we have... isn't ego what binds you to yourself.... to your sense of self... to your sense of self worth... if not you, who else is there.... who else who understands you the way only you can do... who else who stands by you the way you can only do.... who else who pursues only your gain, your pleasure, your peace... who else who ignores your faults, your failings, your weaknesses.... who else, who is bound only to you and just you... who else? does the new world make any sense to me... it doesn't... its needs, its wants, its sympathies, empathies, hollowness, shallowness, superficiality, abruptness...does any of it recommend itself to you... and if it doesn't ... what do you do... where do you run... in what old world do you seek comfort... old comfort of books and songs... that is all there is sometimes... art and poetry... rarely do people come remotely close to them... rarely do they let you down... rarely do they make you feel abandoned, misunderstood, hurt.... rarely do they let you down... they are not people... that's their weakness... and their strength... they are there for you... always....in all your lifetimes... one or many... they sometimes tell your story... how different can stories be... they are all the same... they teach you something... they make you weep, sometimes laugh, sometimes elevate... but mostly, they leave you sad... sad when with them you lose a part of you... a part of you that lived a lifetime with them... with their characters, their settings... and if their story was good... you miss it... you miss not being part of that story... though you also realise it is the truth of life... the truth of lifetimes... the ones you have lived... sad comes after happy... probably the sadder because it was happier sometimes... but it cannot be for ever... just like the books... just like lifetimes... they have to end... maybe to start new stories... new beginnings... who knows... better than the one you just read... who knows?