I saw a droll man today with a wicked sneer and knitted cap upon his head wearing an old worn jacket as he jogged up past the house Wednesday. He thinks he is clever practicing parlor tricks. In the end though, his life counts as nothing. It will be as he did not even exist. Pride goeth before a fall, especially off the precipice of life.
The choices we make for what, I ask.
Man's choices are a mystery.
Then he is no more.
He is a dead man.