The weary traveler approached a fork in the road. For the last hour, he had been contemplating this tremendous decision. It had taken a toll on his health. He hated making choices. To complicate matters, one path led to certain painful death, while the other to safe passage.
He looked to the right and saw sunlight, fresh fruit, and a gorgeous babbling creek in the distance. The heavenly strains of “Hallelujah” could be heard. It was so obviously the safe route, it had to be a trap.
He looked to the left and saw murky darkness, rain, a swarm of mosquitos and bats, and a swamp that smelled like vomit. He could not help but wonder if he could tolerate the stench for more than a minute. He took a deep breath and stepped toward hell. He stopped short and could not resign himself from making such a stupid fatal error.
He took a step to the right, then to the left. He did this for the next twenty minutes, until he couldn’t anymore. He would make himself dizzy and let gravity decide. Instead, he plopped down and sat. It was a matter of time before he fell asleep. It would be the last time, for he died peacefully in his sleep.
MORAL: Death is inevitable.