But now visualize. Let's close the door and let us lower the curtains because the time of accounts. What we did in our lives? Who we are? Why you and not me? Long now don't hit anyone at our door and the postman has centuries look. Oh, how many letters, how many poems that got the wind. What if I lost my life I lost it about things trivial: a Word, or a key, a yesterday or tomorrow? Though my nights always have a perfume Violet because all I remember. How many friends who fled without leave address, how many words without response? And the music I think is the sadness of those who do not prophase n ' love and be loved. Until in the end it remains a blurry recollection of the past for what you experienced and every spring comes I cry because he will go and nobody will remember.
Many times I wonder how many are the souls of those nights with me stay up all night, waiting for everything and simultaneously the absolute nothing. And inside that nothing exists and that something that we expect to come, without being able to identify. But there is the magic? We can dream of free, without limits, without need or not, without obstacles?
The Dragons, fairies died aged, the filters went out and only the shine of your eyes has been left to remind me that there's still magic...
Many times I wonder how many are the souls of those nights with me stay up all night, waiting for everything and simultaneously the absolute nothing. And inside that nothing exists and that something that we expect to come, without being able to identify. But there is the magic? We can dream of free, without limits, without need or not, without obstacles?
The Dragons, fairies died aged, the filters went out and only the shine of your eyes has been left to remind me that there's still magic...
No comments:
Post a Comment