and in the end
there was nothing,
just a faded picture,
a blurry line
or perhaps a wandering snowflake,
something I cannot longer recall,
I just listen at the echoes
of guns and boots in the outside
I curl like Christ in fear,
while the skies yell at the earth,
nothing but a dream,
nothing still.

And so I came to be.
There was only the darkness and the darkness alone,
Nothing but a tyranny of thoughts,
A infinity of dwelling memories raging like a blizzard
The enlightenment of dragging all the emotions behind
Burning, watching, trembling, there was just unreality and pathos
The stars knocked at my door just after God sent me a transmission
And so I realized that hatred and personal belongings
Are the weavers of all our systematic reality.

I feel uncomprehensible, not by loneliness but idealism,
An outcast from the current line of words
I was nothing but an uncouraged musician singing what I didn’t do,
A writer believing in aliens as masters, and Jesus as a mortal wise man,
Nothing but a mere child playing to be an adult,
Those are my dreams, this rollercoster of grudges and sighs
The universe hiding behind my glasses,
A presence in the Woods, some cheering and joyful man aside the road
This waves are screams punching my wall against my heart
A guillotine of desires and temptation,
I am not alone anymore. But still, I feel like I was just born.
Some call it love, I call it a muse revenant.

The Earth went silent,
                                       it was the aftermath of the End;
the crooked shadows crept between all spaces,
                                                         ­                         then the Cloudfolks returned.
They stood still watching at us,
                                                      it was during an August eclipse.
"Pitiful are the sleepers who don't dream." Spited to me one of them.
                                                           ­                                                        So s/he took my hands and gave me a sphere,
s/he told me:
                      "You shall not swear your life in vacuity."
And so I knew it was time,
                                               it was time of tempests, and beautiful extinctions,
it was a time of grief and sharp pain.
                                                           ­      Their eyes were black as void,
those fuzzy white cloaks were cold, and those hands...
                                                        ­                                        And before I could even awake, one sitted in my bed and whispered gently to my ear:
"Embrace the Omega."
                                        And so I did.

Sweet beautiful machine behind the woods,
chuckle with tears and carries a barren womb,
"Do you regret the Unlife?". I shouted.
And a soft voice whispered "No".

I have not seen the crows singing to the corn,
I believe in nothing, and nothing at all,
"Do you fear the sky?". I thought.
And a soft voice whispered "No".

Your harmony pleases the pace of the trees,
I have forseen all of this inside of a dream,
"Are you even trying to see me?". I asked.
And a soft voice whispered "No".

Spreading those legs of yours around my neck,
I kiss the cave of wonders as if were a threat,
"Is everything fine, my love?". I licked.
And a soft voice whispered "No".

"Through grim and void we march towards freedom,
we are all proud by serving the original Vow.
Confronting the dreams of solitude and awe,
our eyes will burst with tears by remembering home."- Spoke the youngest of all, and the elders listened.

"Our smiles will freeze like an old photograph,
and that burden is expected decay and colapse some day.
Finding two men alive from five, saving two souls by killing ten. It ain't worth it." - Said the captain to the *****.
"Our children will forgive you for being a murderer."- She replied.
"Will we ever forgive ourselves for being murerers?": The enemy thought before he walked into the tent and killed them both.

"There's no phoenix rising, only a lifetime of carrion
and a hostile wind that will carry our ashes across the battllefield."- Said the drinking middle aged man to the Bartender.
"We curse them, they curse us, there is no good side neither bad, sir, just a special feeling of threat, and some kind of love for killing. It's unforgiving, but it doesn't matter at all. We still die."- Interrupted the youngest of all.

And from the distance was heard:
"Let us cut through the ominous throat of the land!
Let us march upon destruction in the name of love!
Fatal wounded, disarmed, violated, murdered, we don't care!
Because we are laughing at the grave of a lost friend,
we conceive destiny and grin to the blood moon.
Oh! Mater Bellum ora pro nobis.
Nobis hoc ostenderent. Sancta pulchra bellicum.."*

   And the land was painted in red, the men dead and a strange smell crawled in the air. The songs stopped, the laughs went silent. There was nothing and nothing happened . Just one red drop in the sea of blue.

I
The remains of love we left behind render the wisdom of our tears,
just like a bomb in the heart, a beating, a bound, a lightning in the sky...
we expect something from this world. Maybe not.
These visions of grim and obsolete grief believe in my particular way to solve these dreams;
What is happiness but a dream?
A slumber composed by attributes of trembling fishes and sad cats.

II
I hear someone yelling at my shadow, telling me that she was there all along, and I did not notice before.
She was like a lament, lovely spreading like a plague;
her motion reminds me of a quite afternoon in the meadow, chamomile tea and snacks of honey;
her eyes were just like stones, falling right into my lungs,
her hair... O Lord! It was like a galaxy, another milky way surrounded by the same amount of black holes the time ever gave, that hair consumes what is left of my personal reality;
the mass of Jupiter, the sleep of Saturn, the mystery of Kuiper belt,
There was no other chaos in the universe so beautiful as her,
because she is allowed to destroy everything we know and reset the laws of the universe, and guard the old Earth within the echoes of a distant dying star, which happens to be the jagged legacy of my youth.
But not in her space, not her planets, only her own rules of the cosmos that serve to herself and herself only,
specially everytime she sings to the sea.

III*
If I could judge the taste of her voice, it's unlikely to state, it's like a new kind of lemon dessert, or sinking the bare hand in a sack of beans;
She is the last incarnation of Galatea, this beautiful machine.
That's what she is. That's why I fell in love with her.
Aurora borealis, Horse Nebula, Andromeda and Zeta Reticuli, from Cassiopea to the depths of Aldebaraan, standing between Ursa Major and Betelgeuse. That is the measure of her spirit, so warm and cozy;
like the lap of a mother during the war, the careful walk of a cat in the night, the eyes of a giant squid, the joints of a china doll, the dust long settled in a basement abandoned 28 years ago.
The last otherwordly dream duel for the fate of humanity, and the conquest of the spirit, that brave and savage impureness we call soul.
I think I know what she is:
another way to die unkown to life standars, my hopeful unrequited love,
that's what she is,
carries destruction in every step, and gives life back with a smile,
she is imposible, she is perfect, she'd never be mine, but she's somewhere in this dream
and that's fine with me.

Seas pouring instead of my eyes,
She passed away this mo(u)rning
And I wasn't there.
My mother cried, and I wasn't there.
If there's a heaven for them,
I'd believe in God.
If there's not, I'd see the night sky
and look for a new star,
that little one, the pretty one.
If there's a heaven for them,
when I die, I'll be glad to be there.

Sally (2003-2015)