Skeleton

In seeking recompense all our lives by swapping one perceived injustice for another, patching wounds with transient felicities and neglecting fresh droplets of blood, we commit the grievious blunder of overlooking the gradual yet eternal loss of our innermost energies. Those who retreat occasionally to ponder the cycle of fatigue, rejuvenation and renewal must realise that at the highest point of solitude, preparing oneself to tread once more upon the cycle becomes intolerably weary, maybe even painful. What lies in store for the meditative soul instead? Perhaps, just perhaps, the understanding that every step of introspection should lead to another path; akin to crossroads in a dense forest, which weaves another cyclical but fresh journey for the next phase of our lives. How else do you think that Grim Fandango successfully authored the saga of his life without fading away? Shed a tear and nod at the world and it's pain, wipe it away and pick up your paintbrush again.