You Never Get One Thing

This notebook is so old the paper is yellow. I wonder where the tree grew. Seems like you never get one thing without losing another. There's some sort of law about that to do with finite resources. Somewhere some guys have figured out to the exact ounce how much my life has cost the earth, how many people have died that I might live. Start with my parents, and theirs, and all who died because of them. It's like we drip in blood. Who can wake up then tomorrow morning, do the tasks set out before them as if it was their work and their work only? Who has the courage to look out to the east again at someone else's sun?