He suspects he had long since killed, greedily stopped himself in silence and knew he could no longer remain among men; It is destined to be a Hermit that preserves its solitude and there could be no other way but loss! In the palm of his hand, the parted handshake froze between his Marshian furs and he could not fall on the neck of the Beloved of the Universe!
 
He felt the life of pity driven into exile tremble because he was buzzing with a swaying, stigma-wounded, fierce fever! He didn't even know how long he was waiting, useless, stumbling on another sounding Promises and clinging to honest words - he did for a long time: He waited for Nothing while he could turn his back or mosquito for the sake of the world!
 
He woke up cursed, comatose; many times he said a hopeless Judgment over himself: No more! Like an old pain glowing scar panting in his body - Even among humans, like leprosy, he rarely dared! Konok and the apostate Age would have kept the renewed hope, he often pondered himself and preached out loud: I had had enough of everything and I would resign!
 
Being burdened His shoulders with sisyphus-rock loads on a daily basis, and thus He became more and more crusted, shrunken, and unyielding! He has been a scapegoat since he was born and yet an eternal Adolescent Rebel; his enemies who interrogated him knew this too — and when the End came he thought he thought his life was complete and still realized in childish wonder: How much could he not do!
 
The fireflies of lights hid in his sparkling eyes - He would have been a Man because he had sinned vulnerable!