An old man was lying on his deathbed. The air in his dreary room supported his state of mind. He had a hunch it was his last night on the good barren earth. However, he didn't experience extreme weakness or foreboding of any nature. In fact, he was feeling light. Very. No, not because he was frail or thin as a thread. His consciousness about what really was going on made him feel better about himself. He couldn't figure out his exact age although his memory was sharp about events that shaped his destiny. Montages from his noteworthy childhood filled his wide open eyes. Endless and moralless stories. And then there were unedited sequences from his adulthood too. What he wouldn't give to relive those moments for a bit! Of course, his mortal mistakes didn't escape him either. To his benefit, he remembered the highs and lows with vivid detail. His ability to put blame on him first and then on others helped him avoid distortion of reality. Unfortunately, there wasn't anyone sitting on the edge of his bed to hear what he had to say. Perhaps silence was meant to his last word. Nevertheless, that didn't bother him at all. Come to think of it, the present scenario might have troubled him no less several decades earlier. Not now. There was nothing to regret. His blood was tired of running while his bones couldn't take his body's toll and his breath didn't wish to fight with his lungs anymore. And he completely understood their situation. It had been an extremely long journey. Unless you're a character in Bible, you weren't supposed to strive for more than two centuries in the wilderness. Something our old man understood way too distinctly before drifting away to sleep.