On Vanity

I. Me.
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Two words that exemplify Man's vanity which knows no bound even as his origin is clearly humble. A drop of nothingness that becomes a fragile living being who soon after dying, rots away into stinking matter.
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Birthed with no possessions and likewise departing empty-handed despite his futile grasps aimed at possessing all he can lay his hands upon.
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His life is characterised by utter toil, mostly useless; whether in affluence or wretchedness it has no bearing, since the calls of nature he must obey unfailingly. And amidst all his struggles, Death rubbishes all earthly plans to dusty ash to be blown away like a spider's web meeting a hailstorm.
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I am no one, and I am nothing.
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Haidarwali 201708300033hrs

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