And I'll be the sun,
if you promise me the light.
Breathing the dust,
accumulated by time,
on your helmet,
never too used.
The sun will look down,
see a face not bathed in god's promises,
and I'll stare back,
daring him to touch the skin.
No laurel crowns,
ever touched my hair,
trumpets were heard,
as a body becomes words.
Blood impregnates the armor,
once yours,
but now,
always mine.
I'll hear the waves,
coming from the shore,
screaming your name,
for all of eternity.
It's worse to be nothing,
hopelessly devoted to death,
when all of my prayers,
had your name incrustated in them.
Whispers of loudness,
come walking to my ear,
stars are frightened,
too much light for one night.
Dust will become,
the eternal man,
in history's eyes.
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