This man
   in my imagination :
    he loved not
    nor was he loved
    lived alone
    in the distant remote
    tilled a tiny farm
    troubled no one
    the world he gave up
    questions he didn't ask
    to him happiness
    never entered his mind
    and such
   he cared not to find

   one day a terminal illness
   fell suddenly on him
   and to himself he said:
   I'm about to depart
   who would take care
    of my farm?