He rests at peace in Cambridge with trees and flowers as guests. What thoughts does he think? Are they simple or could they be the meaning of the cosmos? Does not time make the meanings of his life as simple as it was beautiful? Is this the question of this personal word game? Did he not find the meaning of his death as beautiful as his life?

I saw him that day in Cambridge. He was not dead but as alive as the Messiah of the word game can be. Will I find the true meaning or shall I personally walk this world with little understanding until that day in Cambridge Railway Station that spring morning where I met God or was it a man called Wittgenstein?