I sit with my head in my hands, looking down at my feet. It's hard to except this frail, biological vessel in which I travel. I'm always looking for the point like a blind man tilting his head towards every little sound. We all have but a few breaths to do something in this world, but it's never enough. Our immortality rests with our offspring, but after several generations, that piece of you that was carried on will be faded and changed into something indistinguishable. This brings me back to that elusive point I'm always looking for. What is it? Could it be our egos not letting us see that there actually is no point? We inhale and exhale, losing a little bit of life each moment, and there is absolutely nothing we can do about it... Nothing...