Do I still have enough lights in me able to move you?

Do I still have enough lights in me able to move you? As in this first evening, lost in the black. Finding on the emaciated silhouette of the trees the signs of a life full with hope. Imagining these words able to bandage your evils into blowing on the colors of your memory. The dust of the years deposited by the trouble of despair. Who forever will not be left. Contrary, I believed. The time of a few welcome days. Fallen from one comet to the papered drag of flowers flights to the field of our hopes. That we made fade in the mummified vase of our decline. Choking the banality of our sufferings. With the cruel vacuum of the skeleton of so much of absences. Deeper than the abortion of our fertile thoughts. Who gently bring us closer to the tomb.  Forts of these signs before runners. Of a great misfortune. That we feel to come without managing to contain it. Do we only want? I lie you. You lie me. Sentences with the contracted bodies of words added dismembering with the meaningless ends of thoughts. Flying away on the wings of an incense. Lit with the sky in the form of last wish. To believe that we could still be happy?