Lights
Shadows and sun
upon the ceiling,
flesh and souls,
upon the twilight.
The dice have been cast
among passers-by,
one after the other
forgetting to pick one up.
One plus one
they follow the soldier
of darkness.
One by one,
they call upon feelings
forlorn.
We borrow our frailty
from the roses of winter,
we pay back the Autumn
with years.
The sun has never been
as bruised as before,
as large as the dark side
of man.
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