I have been nothing but a small child playing with the alphabet carved into wooden blocks making up worlds and stories to ease my own troubled mind and comfort my own lonely heart as a way to deal with the pains and lunacy of love and life, while counting my shallow breaths knowing each one exhaled brings me closer to my death.  And in what end can I see a value to the days behind me as I find there will be no more before me, to what star in the sky will my passing bring a tear of grief, a prayer for redemption, a kind memory of what I had done with the time I spent walking through the pastures and desserts and ocean floors of this dying world.  Will there be any such star for my memory to be more than dust and light and wave or will I fade from time quicker than my flesh and bones decay?  Will my mortality be the end of me?  Will there be no light, no dark, no gods, no demons, no devils?  Is what I believed to be a soul no more than illusion and will it disappear with the last flash and pulse of electricity that exits my unmoving body as the earth grows through and reclaims my corpse.  Is there nothing more than this life alone, is it no more than a single flame that burns away to end in embers and smoke and then dissipate into the dark void and then is never seen again.  What then should I become within the remainder of my days, what should I strive to achieve, what line should I walk between the ideas of good and evil.  If I am destined by nothing is that all I can become or is there more to achieve outside the illustrations of heaven and hell.  Does life then become full of impossible possibilities and dreams of unimaginable proportions, if heaven is no longer a place above us and hell never existed below us, are the blueprints of divinity found within the chambers of our own hearts and are the horrors of the ****** only a place that burns in the depths of our minds.  Are we the makers of our cages and prison cells, doing nothing but sleeping our lives away with the key to freedom under the pillows we lay down our heads.  And if there is any truth here, who will take up their keys and walk free with me and recreate the world with words of love and kindness carved into wooden blocks and live out the remainder of our days with easy minds and full hearts and play as children do.