He is tormented by the hallucinations of a mad man, walking aimlessly across a vast desert of endless confusion and total loss. It’s as if the very sanity that should define a man has suddenly escaped him like a thin mist into the eternity of nothingness!
He looks into the open blue sky waiting for some sign, some emblem on wings perhaps sent from a god to rescue his distraught soul, but none is forthcoming. This man has been reduced into a beast of agony. He wails while tearing his hair apart. His scalp is revealed, and he cuts and claws through it like a plough upon an open field. A river of red washes across his brow, and his face becomes like a raw wound. He howls and roars like a dying giant, he weeps until his eyes roll out like a pair of dice, and fall upon the ground.
And so his screams of horror reduce to a faint whisper, his cries of pity become a silent whimper, and his painful shrieks become soft moans. He curls into a ball and hugs his knees close to him, shaking, shivering. Like a wounded serpent he writhes upon the ground one last time, as if in anticipation of dust joining to dust, and ash becoming ash. His final breath is long and rugged, and finally his broken spirit is at rest.
Such is the agony of a man’s heart broken by the tender hands of love.
