Hollow

Shape without form, shade without colour,
Paralysed force, gesture without motion;


T. S. Eliot
The Hollow Men

People die every day, all over the world, for no reason at all (seemingly). And to at least have one (a reason or two) to define your demise puts you in a frame of such ridiculous proportion that the contrast it seems is ennobling. But then, Ignorance, more often than not, grants us the comfort of assuming that Death is simply the end of "it". Living is terribly different. There are too many reasons (or so we are told) to go on, of such shape, size, and variety, that we end up with something we did not bargain for or, as in most cases, with simply nothing at all.