A walking shadow

"Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing."
- William Shakespeare (Macbeth)

I thought about this from a more personal perspective. What if it read:

"My life's but a walking shadow, I am a poor player
who struts and frets my hour upon this stage
And then I am heard no more. It is my tale
I tell it as an idiot would, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing"



What does man gain from all his labor at which he toils under the sun?
Generations come and generations go, but the earth remains forever.
The sun rises and the sun sets, and hurries back to where it rises.
The wind blows to the south and turns to the north; round and round it goes, ever returning on its course.
All streams flow into the sea, yet the sea is never full. To the place the streams come from, there they return again.