The poet, walking slowly under the thin rain, climbed the rocky road that led up the cliff. He was mentally reviewing his life, hoping to find some joy, but the more he recalled and further analyzed, the more convinced he grew that the decision taken was correct. The edge of the cliff appeared after the last corner, about 40 feet away.
Instantaneously, he made a new attempt to dredge up something positive that will justify a change of mind but found nothing and the decision of suicide consolidated in his mind. He was never afraid, but felt a very deep sadness indeed. The gray man walked to the edge and decided to gain momentum; he threw his poems into the vast chasm.
