THE HARBINGER OF DEATH

In my imagination, a strange dream-vision of what I will be like in thirty years' time, thirty years older, is coming up in my mind. Beaten, worn, broken, despicable, deceived not only by the deceitful human soul but by the primordial elements of nature: malleable matrices. Even then I will watch from my small rectangular room how the new world order devours and devours itself and 

and Man in it, like a prodigal animal! The secret viruses of my brain's reticular system will attack Alzheimer's while together they warn me of death. Yet it is not the death-consciousness with its snarling hyena-circles that lurks: its lonely emigration is already well sharpening its sword of doom above my head! 

"There is nothing to fear from death, my boy," say the experts, "Only time is hard to decipher, our last countdown, for which we are here!" - And perhaps if I had managed to take Someone else to my side, a caring family, I could have been happy for seconds, and then blessedly caring 

I'd break hearts in disobedience, for I could not control my body's inner commandments! I could have received treasures and collected in my handkerchief the stray, tears I had shed. And like the gumdrops I have secretly and selfishly hidden! In my inwardly piercing heart I strove for the contentment of the All; building foundations on the ruins of Being! 

The unrelenting body will defeat me, I shall be forced to end the unfinished battle! And at last they will be emptied and laid like shipwrecks in shoreless ashes and bone graves. A shameless refuse for the rubbish heap. From pain and suffering I cry for mercy, for I am a coward!