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Blessed who knows how to hear

And blessed those who respect his worth.

Because the time is close.

It was who stillborn and prince of livings.

Rapt in ecstasy, over the grey clouds, the soldiers, said: “I’ve met wild animals, ferocious beasts fighting among them selves; I’ve seen so many wildernesses where even the darkness tried it hardest to live those hellish places. There were the voices of pain, human figures”.

In the nights, the true apologies of spirits full of power and flashes in electric spaces and the hit and the cold answered to him: “We know your works, your poems in blood; they think you are alive instead you are dead. You gave the life to ashes and they’ve lost them selves; you lost the time for action.”

His blind eyes removed the lights of his world when he wanted to live again the eternal moments of creation owing to that peace, that silence and said: “Into the darkness I’m conscious of nothing, I’m high on the idea of not owning myself.”

And that is how the day shaded the same light of his thoughts. They gave to him the power to kill off with sword, with hunger, with the hope of a dream without them.

And the sun turned black, the moon into a red-blood color, the stars crashed down on the earth, one third of forests was burned and every green grass in time withered up.

Everything died down and the infinite was hanging.