The days of our life deeping in shadows, while beasts and empty dreams coming from false sensations and thoughts of hapiness. Trees, stars, leaves, meadows, moon and one tender river, sun, light and wine ambition and teenager teardrops. Everyone is poor, suffering is a celestial salvation to heaven. She is away, but he doesn't care with much suffering, it's burning in eternity a calling to saintity, to save the younth, the children in the wrincles that borns in every face, in everyone skin. Love is above sleep, love is carity, is mercy. Is a return to God even when we commit little mistakes, Virgin Mary and Jesus Christ are calling us. We, the children of God.
The night is falling down, a nightingale at tree dense braches, crows in a light one and eagles flying. The sensation in the inner is of pain. Power, childhood, adolescence and desire of been accept by grown people. When we were in grooves, every joyful smile from our little cousin, now became two teardrops in a left eye and one at the other that acts by right in his position. Tenderness from mother honey lips, speaking of angels, saints and gnomes. Moral principles in wonderful advices gaved thought our fathers love, sweep sensibility and worried souls and hearts with world dangers. Now i look to the sky, and see how happy i really am and was.
We are the children that were expelled out of Eden Garden. Maybe after three years old everybody saw glances compound in darkness by means of our sleep. We need of God, and maternal compassion. Cause childhood and extreme sensibility are doors as hairs along members that compound all human bodies. Saints, martyrs, poets, agricultural workes, painters, musicians, teachers, physicians, lawyers, seamstresses, and all the prayers necessary to save us, the world and give light for all suffering. Help your brother, there is nobody who isn´t poor, everyone lacks of the sky in a globe with so many passions, cages, and pains without justification in divine light. Virgin Mary, i follow through thine the steps of Jesus Christ, to arrive our God will with all saints interceptions.
She was alone, the gallery was away after international company carried paintings and scultures, with a sad sensibility in her brown eyes. David, Moyses, Jesus in Mary arms. Imitations of prehistory art, men hunting harts and fighting with lynxes. A tender girl, she saw wild human nature with little teardrops. Seventeen years old. In her heart and soul were flowing, gleaming Jesus, Mary, Moyses and David. Especially Jesus and Mary. I never more saw her again, this dirt world carried she away from me. And now by my left eye one teardrop falls, and in my right one, two are passing the surface of my cheek.
The night is falling down, a nightingale at tree dense braches, crows in a light one and eagles flying. The sensation in the inner is of pain. Power, childhood, adolescence and desire of been accept by grown people. When we were in grooves, every joyful smile from our little cousin, now became two teardrops in a left eye and one at the other that acts by right in his position. Tenderness from mother honey lips, speaking of angels, saints and gnomes. Moral principles in wonderful advices gaved thought our fathers love, sweep sensibility and worried souls and hearts with world dangers. Now i look to the sky, and see how happy i really am and was.
We are the children that were expelled out of Eden Garden. Maybe after three years old everybody saw glances compound in darkness by means of our sleep. We need of God, and maternal compassion. Cause childhood and extreme sensibility are doors as hairs along members that compound all human bodies. Saints, martyrs, poets, agricultural workes, painters, musicians, teachers, physicians, lawyers, seamstresses, and all the prayers necessary to save us, the world and give light for all suffering. Help your brother, there is nobody who isn´t poor, everyone lacks of the sky in a globe with so many passions, cages, and pains without justification in divine light. Virgin Mary, i follow through thine the steps of Jesus Christ, to arrive our God will with all saints interceptions.
She was alone, the gallery was away after international company carried paintings and scultures, with a sad sensibility in her brown eyes. David, Moyses, Jesus in Mary arms. Imitations of prehistory art, men hunting harts and fighting with lynxes. A tender girl, she saw wild human nature with little teardrops. Seventeen years old. In her heart and soul were flowing, gleaming Jesus, Mary, Moyses and David. Especially Jesus and Mary. I never more saw her again, this dirt world carried she away from me. And now by my left eye one teardrop falls, and in my right one, two are passing the surface of my cheek.
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