And the world spoke

Unto him the world spoke. Not in words but in gestures. Gestures of good faith and bad. In riddles and in plain threats.  It used not words but actions. It hurt him, struck him with arrows made of tragedy, cared for him with gestures of good will and tempted him lusty objects. Now, with death upon him like a blanket, he wondered. What was it all for? The suffering, the anguish, the joy, the love? Why have any of it? Why waste the energy on creating something he couldn't have? With what he had let left he said goodbye. Goodbye to it all. Goodbye to the ones he loved and hated. Goodbye to the things he wanted and had. Goodbye to his torments and to his lovers. There are more world's than these he thought. BB

Taking his own life was out of the question but moving it wasn't. To lift the roots that have spread so deep would be work and toil but not without reward. Across the sea she waited. A beacon that pulled him to safety or ruin. It mattered not but the call was great. Alone he paddled into the night. The moon his only company, his thoughts a passenger left behind on a lonely beach.