For the last, we return to the first, we recreate the first. For the last, we return to the best. We use the past to map the present, forgetful of that unexpectedness which clarifies the best. To recreate the best, we travel the present with a map of the first, the route which led us to the best, the first best, an exploration in causation.
Like a gambling man who rubs his lucky rabbit foot and perches in his lucky chair, who seeks to tempt the best, who thumbs his ear in peculiar fashion, as he laces up his lucky shoes and flicks the brim of his lucky hat--and the best of luck to him! He returns to the best; he recreates those leading actions, seeking perfect recreation. He returns to the first; that first-first best.
Once we have exhausted the best, our perception of the best, the cycle which seeks to recreate the best, the cycle which inhibits us from discovering another best, a newer best, which excludes other bests, we succumb to the reality of the one first felt and deny all others.
And then(we feel) we've plumbed the possibilities of the best, because(we feel) there's only one. And then(we find) we've reached the last. And then(we find) we have grown old.