Toward the entrance of the castle, only ruins are alive. It is the same as for the mind. We only keep the deconstructed as what is still standing is now steady, dead and fixed, immobilised - a frozen death could be the equivalent. Ruins move, they fall, deteriorate with the wind, like the broken thoughts, they evolve, change.
The castle with its ruins and steady walls was being prepared for the reception, the old souls poured waves of waters to flood its flooring with a new substance matter to then throw an infant thought in them. The old souls are the key bearers to the wheel meant to close the well of consciousness. They go from one human figuration to the other, testing their perception, special attributes, making mistakes to show them the key to the wheel of the well they are bearing.
The key is a golden ring. It shines through the eyes and the human figurations have to dive within the water to rescue the infant thoughts and the old souls. The old souls would then decide of their death.
Somehow in my eye, the golden ring was shining, with a special tint of hope, I looked into the eye of the old soul. Other human figurations were now trying to rescue my soul from the active mission. What they forgot was that I was meant to reach the old souls and not be granted the death of despair in the likes of the others. Swimming in the waters was in my reach, even obstacles were easily overcome. I would meet the old souls on the balcony showing onto the ceremony hall so they could guide me to the door where the sun rays are golden, for me not to fall into the well of consciousness.