To return to the past…a wish of a dying man. Forever trapped by a love lost. To turn back the hands of time is worth more than gold... More precious than gems... Trying to not looking down that path as best he can, wishing, hoping, wanting, “at any cost!” He shouts to the wind as his body grows old and weary. He closes his eyes to not open again but wait… His ears they hear… “Love…Oh my Love…Come back to me, my Love…” These words will one day cross him and what he shall not do is not hold her until the sunsets and the moon rises. He won’t not kiss her lips as if they would disappear before him… He won’t not love her until the end of time… and when that time is placed before him… He won’t not give all of his gold and gems… to receive that time again.