Sometimes death lives for eternity,
a captive of silence,
or in hidden journey to flesh;
unless the body betrays the falling stars from eyes.

Dying was an appropriate thing
a festival of freedom for veils,
to leave you alone with your morality.

This terrible life ejects you
on the gravel to become a stone.
The fall from the beautiful height
was meant for charity.

No body wants to die for a toss-up
with life,
for a secret game of tears and smile.
The true thing of despair generates
a darkness, whom I owe my light.