It’s not your time *
It is the family that feels the absence, which meets. There’s a festival for every occasion and there is no greater joy, no greater celebration to be together sharing smiles, flooding the spirit with hugs and kisses. Is the air coming rubbing the edges of memory who whispers the void, that caresses the skin and bristles when that presumption manifests and displays of beauty that always brings back memories of a name when we recover the figures who dreamed our dreams and gestures that were entrusted to us by those who preceded us in this pleasure of daydreaming. It is open in the morning, still dewy immaculate canvas roofs where the evocation slip and mystery of a look, which mirrored illusions transiting the fevered imagination of a child, where the soul polychrome with the emotions and the heart is stained green while spread on the pavement of a street patent leather open hand to host part of the sound which advocates greatness, the spinning arising from a habit merino silk twine and guarding gold dreamy elegance of proclaiming the Lordship layer. Time is shortening distances of life, is heavenly Goldsmith hand chiseling matter, that moves and manages to charm a whim, to the light of a chimera, to give the spirit of grace and gallantry of the guard who gives the power of a court to question the reason, holding the balance of love and sadness, and neither is able to emancipate without the other expires and is present in the face like tears, like grin worthwhile, as the wink that entrevela chimera duermevelas causing a fight.
Comes air stirring consciences, invoking a presence that escapes, presented ethereal, translucent as light denied. Dialogue with the stars that dazzle jet black tapestry that sparkle candles to be sliding down the lifeline that will sift the twilight glow caused the blindness of love. Oh dialogue enclosing the way! Oh words that are hidden in the trenches of the air, slide his words on the edge of affection! Phrases fleeing the time, that dodge and tronchan in fields to be extinct, who are bent on life, who are bent on revoking science because its strength lies in most of the great things in the known carrier grace and panache management. Take the wisdom of grace gala. Is reciprocity for services rendered. What do you say to the ear, which are counted, that comment, why laugh? It’s not your time, faithful servant. And it removes the aurora. And the reeds sway to keep swinging the lee of grace, that thrills the senses and touches of elegance. It’s not your time, mate, that you still have a hundred battles be fought, still thousand street parades where you spreading the gala escort the Redeemer. What motivates this game if not the dew soaks the smoothness of silver, if not slip Winks affection that are mirrored and onto the oval of your shield, if it is not emboldens the air with the foam of the morning dizzy feathers? Do not obstines in looking. Heed, mate, not your time. Obey the mandate. This guard is not yours. There compliments in a cloak that requires your presence, there are sounds of joy, jingles reminiscent dawns, sheltered in that extol embossed metal rim of a fountain gushing with Hope. Cling to manigueta. Do not let go. It’s not your time, is the time of the brave who stay behind the shield, in the momentum of the beating heart and will point the way that leads to the house where he is recounting the need to have you, to hold you, to feel. We do not want añorarte. Arise, and take up arms and tell life dreamed that one day you were beside him, Praetorian Guard art born in the Macarena, which spreads through the skies that we evoke, we step on the floor wasting martial. It’s not your time, faithful guardian, his faithful escort amparaste figure, the sweetness of his demeanor, which anulaste the death sentence with your grace and your joy. It’s not your time, bearer of Hope to meet you in heaven with the God of the venture, with the Christ who promises you long life. Not when your sunset, is the time of dawn. Honor to you, faithful Armao, winner of dawns, sunrises undefeated fighter. It’s not your time to progress, not your time.
* A Carre, follow us cheering for existence with their presence.
NHD Antonio García Rodríguez