Who knows when the rain stops?
After the seeds have had just enough to grow and bring life to the earth?
Or after the flood wrecks properties and lives, that even none remains to know when it ends?
Who knows when the clock stops ticking?
After we die peacefully and leave this realm of “space and time”?
Or when it mechanically malfunctions and is condemned beyond repair?
Who knows when reading stops?
When we come to the knowledge of The Truth?
Or when we grow sick of seeking truth and/or think we know it all?
Who knows when the gun stops firing?
When man learns peace?
Or when all humanity has been forcefully laid to rest-in-peace?
Who knows when the long road ends?
Does it break at my hometown I have sought for long?
Or, at a homely cottage with a friendly psychopath-and-serial killer to welcome me?
P.S.: Who knows when the enchanted writer stops writing?
When all humanity has heard the message and learnt?
Or when he loses sight of the message and wanders off the path?
Do you know?