(Thinking about "Raven")
Allan Poe was filled with night, with weakness and with pain, he had never been alone, never. In that raining night suddenly something was knocking. On the door? … and, he thought about that: "Only this, and nothing more?"
When he was reading some forgotten books … knocking was continuing, he woke up and he remembered that it was a cold December and how his loved darling Lenore had come out from his life forever. This cold wave and the remembrance of the love still increased his solitude.
He was reading a book. Again, there was some rustling. A curtain? That looked like danger! Is it Lenore? And he said: "It is wind and nothing more".
He came to the window and he opened it. A raven!? The dark raven sat above the door: ‘And nothing more’.
In the dark and solitude this raven looked like a friend for a moment. But the raven croaked again: "And nothing more".
Almost broken he tried to find the meaning of those words: "Nothing more".
The raven, already became like a prophet. Poe asked himself: ‘Is it a bird or a devil!?’ Fear is big. Somehow, in the name of God he asked the raven this: ’Will I know that if I will be able to see my Lenore in the paradise?
The raven croaked: "And nothing more" and looked at Poe, he stood above the door on the bust of Palad in the dark, and then it was silence.
Poe’s Soul was already exhausted.