Life is a crooked path. We hit every stone. Pride, sloth, greed, anger, lust, envy, gluttony. We fall down seven times, and we get up eight. We live and learn and, in the end, we die and forget it all. Life is a joke, and death is the punch line.
On the last day of life, we will beg God for more time. He will ask what we did with the time given to us.
We will fall down one last time, pushed over by age, disease, war, famine, but we will not get up. Life will carry on, our existence reduced to a rumor, and then less than that.
But the stone in the road? It will wait, never sleeping. The stone in the road endures.
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