The ship of the love slid convincing in the oceanic marine surface. He didn't furrow the water, in her it hovered unstoppable in the infinite landscape, where the time doesn't exist. Which Triangle of Bermuda with one more angle, the love.
Paraphrasing: which is the shortest road to arrive in her sweet heart?
Paraphrasing: the world has seven wonders, everyone knows it. And which do you know the octave is? Doesn't he know?! The eighth wonder you are.
The vegetation trembled sweetly. It fell her a soft metal basin of water that the rapt, if it precipitated in the candescent sighs of the love.
Because they don't leave the thirsty of the love if they free? Because they pursue the oppressed of the love? Because it is made love secretly, done cloister in four walls? Possessed them by the love will be pursued also and finally it will be ordained: the love is a religion.
Our daily activities tire us, but the love does in the tireless ones, it turns off us the weight of our souls. To do love is to build happiness, and to free of the human servitude. It is the ecstasy of the divine hug.
When all of the roads of our lives if they infest of love and the fields bloom again, and the harmony of the Nature again to glitter, it means that the conditions imposed for the triumphal return of the love came true.
The love never makes ceremonies, never she make to announce. When it arrives, he opens us pair's doors in equal. And he proclaims us: I arrived, I won't stop more, and forever here I will be, eternally to live.
When two glances if they cross accomplices, and interpenetrate in the deep bows of the inconsistency, as hearts burning, anxious, uncontrolled, it is the love that arrived.
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