The old man was always there upon the path The people stood bewildered guessing at his thoughts It seemed that there he always remained Staring silently at the Almanac His demeanour never changed except at the sight of young whose brimming energy left marks on the stones.   Years passed and people went away, he always remained – The young grew old, the old died but he kept counting the stones Still there at the crossroads on his moss-covered path Where he was reflecting on his thoughts Or so it seemed to the young Where he sat ans stuck to a tree was his Almanac   So the stories passed about the man on the path Staring at the now almost grass-covered stones And there trying to get his attention were the young Passing by every so often to compare their jokes from the Almanac And as he on the path remained Only God himself knew his thoughts.   Nobody knew if he always stayed on the path Or for how long will he count the stones From child to child varied the thoughts About how such a man could have an Almanac? Little things pleased the minds of the young And this was how it always remained   And so the situation stayed on the path For ever subtly counting stones. Endlessly reading the Almanac – He was ignored by the young, So he will always remain: Or so everyone thought   Until that one day on the path When his tear clattered on the Almanac And his body fell on the stones; There gawped the surprised young Looking where the vault of memories and thoughts Rested on the stones and forever remained....