| BkV:7.II.16 | For a while you played the ego game. That wore on you. It could not be otherwise since it was a game of death, although it did not seem so. The game of the ego demanded continuous sacrifice, like the game of gladiators who left their lives in the sand, hoping to win at least a wreath of flowers, a pat on the shoulder, or applause so fleeting that it lasted less than a spring flower. Can you see how you've always been playing? |