Life is a beautiful, tragic mystery. From the tiny fingers and toes of a newborn to the wrinkles and silver hairs of a grandfather, life is a miraculous journey. We see the red autumn leaves cascading to the ground, the sun’s brilliant rays warming the world, and the dark heavy rain clouds threatening to explode; We smell the clean aroma of freshly cut grass, the inviting scent of just-out-of-the-oven cookies, and the romantic fragrance of blooming flowers; We taste the refreshing cleanness of water, the crunchy sweetness of an apple, and the tangy zest of spices; we feel the delicate cool breeze on our face, the gentle foamy waves lapping at our feet, and the warm tender embrace of others. But we destroy these beautiful things. We cut down the trees; we pollute the air with chemical emissions; we contaminate the water with harmful substances; we litter the earth with garbage and fill it with putrid odors; we replace nature with concrete walls, glass skyscrapers, and cement roads; we hide our feelings, we blame our neighbors, we fill ourselves with hate and revenge; we judge people, we use people, we discriminate against them and we hurt them. We are never satisfied. We wake up every morning and we want more—bigger houses, faster cars, higher incomes, fancier clothes, cooler friends—and we slave away day after day, so that we can have these materialistic treasures. All the while, we fail to see all the beauty around us. It isn’t until our faces are filled with wrinkle after wrinkle, our skin hangs sadly from our bones, our backs hunched from laboring away at the office, our stiff tired joints pain us with every move, and our hearts struggle with each beat, that we realize how precious each moment is and how beautiful life really is. But time is up. It’s too late. Life remains a tragic mystery.