We work. We strive. We fight on for this life. But why? What good comes from the fight? We suffer loss, disappointment and heartache. And for what? A cedar box, six feet under the ground? One man toils with the pipes while another sits on and sips his latte. One man loses his hands in a mine while another gets a manicure.

One man dies in the line of duty while a woman gives birth to a child who will one day kill. How can we let this injustice, this unfairness continue? How can we sut by and tell ourselves that it doesn’t effect us? If we must work, let us work for peace and happiness for all. If we must suffer loss for our work, let us suffer the loss of hatred and all that is bad.

And if we must die, then let us die of old age in the arms of the one we love. But we prefer to ruin ourselves with our lattes and manicures, then ruin our children by turning them against us. And for what? A cedar box, six feet under the ground.