Isolated

Feels so empty...
Just like the dark side of the moon...
Just like a simple tear coming down from my heart to my eyes...
May be just like another fear who rises from the bottom of my nightmares
It feels crumbling... this light around me falls between every flicker of my will...
Can you feel the eco of my voice?
Am I so far away from you, enough to be able to Scream and shout with my soul and you to still not hear me at all? Even like a simple whisper?
Am I so Isolated?
You can feel, sense My love for you, Because It is not Inside me. It has runned away from here, leaving me alone with the sorrow of loosing the most beautiful thing I've ever felt in my life.
Oh My love, You bring me here, To a forgotten island between the reality and a world I despise with all of my body and more
The Life I used to live, to worship you, has ended, I've failed, Like a pagan to a god, Like a human To another one. But you were less like another human and more like my only perfection.
Yes, You My dear, My only beloved One, You, To me, You are only comparable to a god...
A God who has punished, A god who has forgiven and forgotten, A god who loved me Like a man to a Godess... A man Who Loved Me and I've Lost him.
And Im isolated, All of me It is. Because there's no other god here, there is no sea to swim to reach another land of faith. There is nothing but a little candle of light and hope, an Island, in the middle of the darkness. In the middle of life...

Podria..

Puedo caer si tropiezo o hacerlo al revés

Podría leer el futuro en las manchas de un gato…

Puedo encontrar silencio en una taza de café.

Puedo sonreír al espejo y no recibir una sonrisa de vuelta..

Puedo encontrar soledad y tormentos en mis sueños

Pude vencer con solo una mirada al miedo..

…Pero quizás lo mas triste de todo, lo que puedo y jamas desee

      Es que en el cielo es donde solo hoy  puedo ver a mi amado…

I love you.

But, in real life, our choices can't solely define us as long as 

we're able to make mistakes. If we said our choices are the 

core of our definition as people, we'd be obligated to say our 

mistakes are too. Which can't be, because they're just that: 

mistakes. Things that may have a reason to exist, but that 

could have been prevented, as they weren't our <preferred> 

choice. We make mistakes when we are mad, when we are 

sad, when we are nervous; when we aren't in our best 

moment to make choices. We can say we are defined by our 

choices, our mistakes, as long as we say we are also defined 

by what we actually feel. And that, my dear, is not a choice.