Sometimes death lives for eternity,
a captive of silence,
or in hidden journey to flesh;
unless the body betrays
the falling stars from eyes.
Dying was an appropriate thing
a festival of freedom for veils,
to leave you alone with your morality.
This terrible life ejects you
on the gravel to become a stone.
The fall from the beautiful height
was meant for charity.
Nobody wants to die for a toss-up with life,
for a secret game of tears and smile.
The true thing of despair generates a darkness,
To whom I owe my light.
