Every Death Has a Bright Future

every bright future is a wind whisper, a caress of the ray, every touch in the palm is a getaway for flying words, each word bears a deceive on its back, a life spent in thought, not to withdraw in etilic sevraj, from time to time raises the glass to taste the words with its mouth, cheers ... cheers ... silence, confessing, silence silence, forgiveness, every forgiveness is a lucid grave, a grave clear as water that watches the angels as they grow wings and fly, they rise and rise to unclog the springs from the air, unearth the sunset and embrace the light like a newborn at the mother's breast, every death has a mother, every death has a father.