Used to be a scary thought. To no longer exist. To return to
nothingness. To have no afterlife. But I’m beginning to think. That’s the
purpose of existence. To learn to be no more. Without fear and trepidation.
Heck. I’ve survived. As nothing. For millions and billions of years. Didn’t
really matter. That I wasn’t around. To participate. In life’s many dramas. It’s
good enough. To simply read history books. To learn. About what I missed. --Jim Broede
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