My Only Two Weapons: Time And Silence.

Love, You Are Eternal Like Springtime.

Sharp Nostalgia, Infinite And Terrible, For What I Already Possess.

I Unpetalled You, Like A Rose, To See Your Soul, And I Didn't See It. But Everything Around -horizons Of Land And Of Seas-, Everything, Out To The Infinite, Was Filled With A Fragrance, Enormous And Alive.

I Am Not I. I Am This One Walking Beside Me Whom I Do Not See, Whom At Times I Manage To Visit, And Whom At Other Times I Forget; Who Remains Calm And Silent While I Talk, And Forgives, Gently, When I Hate, Who Walks Where I Am Not, Who Will Remain Standing When I Die.

A Fantasy Can Be Equivalent To A Paradise And If The Fantasy Passes, Better Yet, Because Eternal Paradise Would Be Very Boring.