To make a bed...

To make a bed for you and me… bed the size of heavens, with clouds instead of pillows; where you're the sun smiling from above, and I am that wind forever chasing down humbly.

To make a bed for you and me… bed of flowers instead of sheets, with spices and bodies. To come into my life and never ever walk away.

To make a bed for you and me… bed of love and warmth, to have you as a cover, and you have me forever.

At dawn our angels meet

This sun is orange, as if it cried for you the entire night while away from you, as if it dreamed about you with a passion of a proud solitary… in an unknown night, in a mysterious ground.

At dawn our eyes meet, your face is rouge from the passions of a love with beginnings long forgotten in the past, with basis beyond sacrifice, above pain. This warmth of you brings a flute song in this savage heart, high notes filled with magic for a fairytale… a fairytale made from the both of us, belonging to the both of us – gently conquering us, when awake or when sleeping like this, closely tight. At dawn, our angels meet.

It all began here, on the ground, among all people; and it echoes up there, far in the heights where you and I make a home together.

All we know is that we exist: you for me, and I for you. Damn everything else…