What, if some day or night a demon were to steal after you into your loneliest loneliness and say to you: "This life as you now live it and have lived it, you will have to live once more and innumerable times more; and there will be nothing new in it, but every pain and every joy and every thought and sigh and everything unutterably small or great in your life will have to return to you, all in the same succession and sequence - even this spider and this moonlight between the trees, and even this moment and I myself. The eternal hourglass of existence is turned upside down again and again, and you with it, speck of dust!

Life – the greatest mystery, and equally greatest weight. Know not as you are told but find out for yourself.

Be yourself! Be yourself! The way you behave and think and desire at every moment that is not you!

And, when the time arrives for the last entry, by the cool window sill of the moonlight air – to whom your conscience, self and life you must bear: here again the demon arrives who spoke thus. Hour glass in clutch, say unto the demon:

This life as I have lived – did I not find my own way?! Otherwise you would never have arrived today! To relay to me my regrets, shame, ambitions and failures of action. No never – for I have lived it in exact chord, the melody cast and strings strung.  Have at me then, your stare no longer bears same weight.

Curse you? No I have lived cool and of my own way! Finding the planks by the riverside, I have built my boat across!  You need not take me there, for it is, I, who at last is waiting for you. To whisper into your ears, and ask, this:

Should the hour glass of existence turn over and over again, and every thought and action, replayed once more. Everything utterly small and insignificant, and even me by the moonlight and you yourself. Should nothing change and all be the same, the grief and gust round and round, could I never have asked for better? Could it ever be more beautiful than this?

You and I, in toil and defeat, sickness and joy, exuberance and delight? Come with me now, and do not fade yet! Let us sit by the sill and say: Yes it shall repeat, and repeat again. The ink, the pages, the moment, and even you yourself. Why not stay awhile  then, and stay awake! Let's discuss this and ruminate. This magic, you understand and are caught in too – like the spider's web we are cut from the same silk glue. Bound to endless time: an eternity you fear – but I have met you with my fate written, what is your own Demon? That you should return to me each and every night in delight to torment me. To whisper that I have never the strength to bear your greatest weight? Ha!

Of all things, to readily bear the burden of existence that is what man is, that is what man does! So pile it on and overload his legs, crush his back, he will stand - stand again! Over and over he will get up, you cannot crush his will to live, to exist, to win! But you, your fate and your whispers, Demon, are nothing in comparison to the will and fate of He who is to bear the Greatest Weight.