Living is longer As when it grows we only saw with the colors of our eyes its nets enclosed in words in them captivated love and you knew me at the door to the wood of the tree to the dark confinement docile prisoners as if released in our own darkness frightful morning where freedom flowed And then And then as a mime of the incarnated pain that we will never know for uncertain mysterious soil adhered to established columns in present position we come into the air of desire as soil that we are crossed before death in a subtle line