The old man sits on an ancient rock adorned with a fine coat of snow the night is cold, the winter grim but he's bathed in the light of the stars He sits an he thinks, with a downcast stare and clouded eyes of ice "alas," the man sighs presently for he'll spend this winter alone. The austere eternal horizon has a tree that’s been weathered by ages akin to the man in spirit- apart from the world, yet not free. The man and the tree are both veterans of the cold and the fury of winter but each blast of wind comes like thunder and the man knows this season's his last. Now his thoughts come like ice and he wonders where the limit of reality is for in such a merciless heaven the purest are truly the damned. Spring finally arrives with its rainfall as the children return with their games and sitting on a bench by a tree- forever the old stone man.