The last piece has been put upon the puzzle.
The final drop of memory has been drained.
Emptiness is reveal, conjuring scenery,
Of something that he had always dreamt.
Kindness and violence are different actions.
But has the same mechanism.
Even now, reading has the same mechanism.
He is now aware of the connections.
His eyes are now covered.
Leading to the cold path ahead.
Deeper into the darkness.
He has chosen and will never return.
That poor lake yet soothing.
Winter does not make it into ice.
He wondered and probably found the answer.
The skin is impaled with vigorous cold straight to the bone.
Birds are still singing and wind is still blowing.
Oblivious of the human being.
The paper is floating eventually drenched.
Still no human can be seen.