TWILIGHT CALLING

Looking the days aside,
just feeling a miracle,
I saw storms into hearts
testing lovers in the ice.

Thirsty symphony sings
the cycle wind of dears
that enjoys exclamations
of moment into animations:

the door closing the entrance
of a paramour in fade.

Are all the situation
of a cry in the sensation?
Perhaps a show daring
its somersaults ago:

Games are on
since man walked along.

Keys are everywhere
while we see any ways.
Weep is fire
of a soul shinning:

Only with pain
we'd discover pleasure
in the weeding of faces
kissing its dangers.

-Warning!-
said the advance
of an older man
on infertile lands.

-Find the flame!-
whisper the old woman
in the ear of a child
seeking souvenirs.

-Is it the real life?-
wondered the philosopher.
-It's just a fantasy-
replied the student:

"Only the time is able
to regenerate cycles
in middle of dawn"