that went out from him instinctively

like a long lost drone

searching among mountains

for survivors whose arms and toes

protruded jewel fashion

from turquoise glaciers

and didn't know any better

than to wait for a reply

from a grief that was in fact extinct

like the pupae of an arctic moth

forever iced over

in a foetal position

so he gave in to the splendour

of unbearably chaste heights

where his belief could flower without

hope of an answering mankind

who would not answer

even if it silently could

so he smiled demurely as he walked

protected by his helmet of oblivion

from wondering when or how his future lay

and was less curious about this by nature than

a dune of sand is

or a fall of rain is

or an unwanted nebula on the run is

of their quantities

and silences

he trickled himself instead

through a narrow waste of time

until he fell down painlessly

inverting himself primitively

to repeat the descent and the rise

and had no idea he had learned

how to subdue

the versatility of death

for his skin was incapable

of recollecting the past

as a cloud has no real surface

or the wind a sense of direction

it carried no inkling of

how painful or how beautiful

how data full or deficient

and overall disappointing life is

and he became statuesque

even in his thought

and though he was not dying

a great pity or shame

attached itself to him