In the vague way without horizon where the soul turns, I am in the way a sweet oldster, who contemplated his very penetrating look, which stopped me as one pairs sublimate.
It takes me of the hand with that immortal mystery of the divine ground, says to me:! this pink capture so that he contemplates like person that you love!, in the gap of the breeze that was covering my surprised face, that the time did not exist on my life, the heart in my breast collapses, to go out at his full freedom.
It takes the rose that liberates my soul, full house of glory of words of this book of knowledge deposited in this way as the guard of the time.
I say goodbye of the noble oldster, walk with sense of clear justice, but I look at the rose again in my hands, it dried off more than the wind of the desert of thousand suns, it disappears powdered, that turns philosophy that rime our actions.
Only the time has touched my hand remembering, that neither magic, nor mathematical equation exists that I defied it, remaining clear the sense of the life with his beauty for living and sharing it only stays in ours hands.
