Years and years have passed, the soreness never.
Like a cat hurled into a pool, trying its best to paddle ashore.
Not to be drown, but to what awaits?
Is there really a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow?
Or will there be a leprechaun with empty pockets?
Unbeknownst to the traveller, the journey lasts for aeons.
Let bygone be bygone, one may say.
Perhaps a one-time hero fallen from grace is not worthy, another suggests.
At the end, nobody can recall who he was.