When the sun of the evening extinguishes one is born other sea. The waves as that they disappear, they hide of our vision, but her sound stays triumphant. He seems to work always in the same way, but no, it is in continuous revolution. The whole Nature changes and we insisted on yours and in our destruction. However, a year end approaches fast and another is commemorated.
We would want that everything and all if and they surrounded us of flowers. And that never their petals withered. With so much noisy and ruinous activity, as it is so difficult to obtain a moment of silence. Because to listen it is more important than to fake speaking. The silence is our best dialogue. Only that nobody wants to manufacture it because there is the refusal of anybody wanting to sell.
So many passed years and no remembered, forever having lost in the mist of the time. As a profusion of youths green leaves that quickly turn pale and they abandon us, they leave our company. To love is to want the memory of the lost time. It is only one love is more valuable than all the others that we sought and we didn't find.
The free hair in the wind wave in the acquired freedom. This is the most elementary true. Just what remains us, we loosen ourselves of our prison and we let to crawl for the free windstorm. Because we shielded ourselves when did we love and didn't we reveal it? Yes! We still didn't free ourselves of that prejudice, because it is still shameful to declare to the four winds that we loved. So many millennia plotted in the verb of the love.
Our monotony is broken once a year. We reflected that we are going aging, while the past increases relentless, our future is shortened. I believe that it is this the sensation of the lost and reminded years of when in time.
Image: http://olhares.aeiou.pt/
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