If all the worlds a stage press play / The elver and the ovum

You are a concious thought made up by your mum and dad half from each, resting on a lonely blood soaked beach, information as one egg shaped particle invaded by a little light dragon with a tail, that split into two then four and became a swimming fishy embryo in the ocean of your mummy's tummy to one day become a film projected onto the 3d screen of existence we call the world you see and in the end your life as a being will take the form of a dying of the light to leave behind a frame built over time that decays but the light rays, have left a shadow called a body that will rot... 

However the bit that leaves will never die it goes onto light other places as time passes us by and that is what we call life because we only know it from the inside of this shell as the nut explores what it means to be born and grow and explore and eventually get cracked and put inside the apple of someone's eye and onto this screen we are projected so that we will never really end because ours is just to do or die and as long as someone remembers us, what we did, who we met, how we lived, when we were seen and in the final chapter our reason why it just goes on forever...