This life is nothing more than an intrepid betrayal. And this betrayal begins from the womb–wherein you are comfortable in it when one day life gets to perform its first act of betrayal by ejecting you outside into a strange dexterous void–the world. In this world, you start getting used to the pungent sun and make it your friend since you are afraid of the coarse darkness–and suddenly with one jerk, the sun goes down, betrays you and the dismal night stands in contrast. So you make friends with the millions of ghosts up in the sky–until they too disappear from your sight when you wake up. Illusions. And then you get used to the winds–the light and cold company and you are one with them –when there is betrayal in the form of heavy rain. Then you go on to make memories. And you make so many of them, when with the crack of age–one by one the memories seep out through you, thereby betraying you. And of course, the people—you meet them with a mask, or perhaps many. And you see they are wearing a mask as well–or perhaps many. But you swing past that, knowing quite well what face exists beneath them. Yet when the masks come off–you feel betrayed, perhaps by your own selves first and then the faces you see for they quite resemble yours. And that is–the betrayal of the self and of the mind. You are betrayed by your virtues because of your vices, your sins by your tragedies or perhaps it is the other way around, your senses by your delusions and your feelings by your reality… So then you realize, what is life about and you finally get the hang of it. Alas! You are met with betrayal in the form of death.
And death…is a betrayal of sorts in its own self as well.