Pain and cold
The world was on fire,her eyes too. With a warm heart, an angel face and a devilish lips, she was made of sunlight. A lost universe in this wicked game,born to heal, born to fight, born to die in his hands, those hands who felt her, those hands who killed her. Why is she always in my dreams? Why I can not see her beautiful face? I feel she is pretty. I feel she is pure. I believe she is mine.
We won the war, on the road to home under a black sky and a bloody land of glories. This is a good year for me and my people. I was the great leader in the effect of a grec god for them, but only a weak bird drowning in her heart and burning on those eyes. I never thought I will see their beauty. I never thought my eyes will catch hers a day. She was unatural and perfect until she could not exist.
I missed my beautiful days as a hunter. I had to find myself again in the forest. Myself that I lost one day for her soul, and that I never knew I will lose forever tonight.
With the first moonlight touching the ground, a cold breeze broke the silence, and from the shadows a wounded white lion showed Itself. I could see the pain in his eyes, hidden between memories and felt like death. White lions used to live in the mountains closer to the stars, but this one was closer to my arrow. I had waited till the sunrise to get my target, then I let my gun find Its way in the sky to his heart. I cut my breath and the world stoped. I could hear nothing but a synchronized heartbeats, coming to my head letting me forget about heaven. I could see nothing but another golden arrow reaching the sky. It sank into mine and enter my storm with no fear. A new life was written for the lion, and a miserable defeat for me.
Among white jasmine roses, over yellow fallen leaves and under a royal blue sky, a warrior was comming toward the lion. He got a legendary engraved arch in his hands, with a black shield and a white scarf on his head. The wind took the scarf over and counted a hair with the colour of the sun. She rised her hands to the sky and looked for the last star between the morn lights, then sent the lion to the north after she unttered some words through her eyes. She looked eagerly and avidly, stole me from my world and missed me in a rough sea. More the wind rises, more her scent got my passion. A scent from our dearest forests, getting me drowning in the first sunlight turning the wood in her eyes into fires, burning the fears in my heart and giving me my first breath. She was the same pain and cold letting a new born breath.
