In the shade of lush spruce trees, under the crowns of tall pines that cut through the sky, slab stones are scattered in the snowy surface. Gravestones of bygone eras, stones of my greatness, stones of my sorrow. My spirit is immortal, and my flesh is weak, but my gaze is directed to the firmament, to the stars that are called This is the end Or is it the beginning of a new being, a new Logos