Winds of our soul

And for among storms they still move our subdued longings, destroyed millenarian. And in the power barbaric dictators that close us in the hateful dungeons on behalf of the love insist. But the winds blow the dictators to her origin place: the Hell. That strange, until the flowers they take delight in her beauty frees.

The Sun freed her light and the insects renewed her work of floral adoration. The moved Nature hugged them and they restarted the dance of the day by day. And all became enchanted, they celebrated. Fast, the end of the day approached, the Sun hid. And already all tired, they returned to their rest places. To proceed another day it will come, and again it will be celebrated.

When we noticed that the days are short, it is because we reached the summit of the maturity. It is more and more the days if they reduce us, and us, already expenses for the time of the age that seems us weigh as lead. It is then, we intended to accomplish in a short life space that we didn't get in the long trajectory that we travelled. But even so we didn't give up, and we tried the final ardour.

Strong’s or weak as the destiny? Maybe never we know him. To live is to dream with the inconstant to can that in the mismanage, it consumes us. And the politicians commit the same mistakes. Until that they already crossed the scale of the foolishness, and we abandoned ourselves to the flavour of their politics without sense. Until that we ended in the poverty moral, social and economic. There are democracies that healthier than a pure breakdown.

We looked at the streets of our cities and he seems to see us an immense colony of human ants that they move seemingly in the same direction. This is living of the mazes that impose us, the poison that everyday is given a present us. There is a lot that we moved without sense. The cities developed a lot, now they are gigantic concrete cemeteries, and we cement him.

During the day we make many desires for the other that we didn't accomplish. It is equally in the other following. We make promises to us same that we didn't value. We are not honest with our soul. It is slowly felt to destroy us. And we renewed the promises to us same that we insisted on not accomplishing. I believe that it is this that he calls himself still to play to live.

For something to insist in the models of the cities if there it governs the disorder, the robbery, the organized crime. We always walked in the fear of at any moment suffer an assault. So much and tender youth disappointed precocious, abated, lost. And our heart sufferer observes so much dislike. The end of the cities approaches, because her conception is brilliant of aberration.