He broke not afar

If asked, he would have no doubt as to his reply. Always the romantic, the self-sufferer, always the emphatic emotions. He would sit, gazing out the window, staring as if into a void which contained all the answers, slowly inhaling contemplation. Or perhaps from another angle, slowly exhaling his self, his spirit bent on nothing visibly evident.

And every day he sat there, watching while the daily comings and goings of events developed around him, his gaze always fixed. Was his soul at rest? Perhaps. Or perhaps not. This seemed to depend on his state of mind at that moment. Yes and No, True and False.

A very many questions presented themselves to him, and indeed to those observing. What was he contemplating? How long could he hold this stare? How could he stop, if at all?

While the solutions to these riddles remained unsolved, he waited. Time ticking slowly, patiently and understandingly. Of one thing he was certain of though. The answer to the question which remained to be asked - that one that had not been as yet contemplated. Yet...