is coming in, makes float everything, its pouring endless rain, raining cats and dogs. its cold outside, freezing cold, a strong, lasting coldness, covering all, all belongings, to whom the might belong to. the remaining light, is not sunlight, opaque, no shadows remain. the full life, is .. you know whats wrong, he said. he went on to the old cave, he onced belonged to, as a young universal fellow, soldier. he is singing the only song he rembered, its never too late to go back, you came from. like a dervish*, he danced, at the door step. loving memories, fading, will you still love me, when i am gone, like as you owed it, just like, to me, as a gift. the meadow of his youth was given back, to the old harvester, he knew, so well, so glad he was going back, home, to his land, the promised land, he could anticipate, even see from every point, in the pointlessness of his life.
*person, standing on the doorstep to our origins, a mystic technique to get access to