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I dedicate these lines to all those who know what a final.

are so many endings there are in our lives: the end of a journey, of course, a good book, a nice story ... And always usually associated with times of sorrow. Perhaps the end of course not, but there must always be an exception. The fact is that I take to put an end in the place it deserves.

The ending, in fact, is a gateway to the unknown, a fork in the road where whatever you decide will never know where you're going to end.

It is true that like the end of a good book is bittersweet, as they often wish you could keep reading, the important thing is the impression that you leave. After a final review is only the story and keep all those passages that made you grow, improve, or simply smile. More important is that after a good reading aficionarte always have the hope of finding their way books are equally or more valuable than those already read. And only after reading all the way we will be able to analyze and re-extract everything of value they possessed.

So I propose a toast to the end, that moment of contrasts in which after the sadness of the living and feel the passion for what they are live.

So you know I want you to live this moment, only the smile comes to you to look back and hope to guide you in your journey unknown. And if you see it necessary to fuck me by the hand and accompany you throughout the journey it takes.

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has been a hard journey.

I left behind friends and loved ones. I sold everything I own. Thin crossed rope bridges and surrounded on infinite abyss erupting volcanoes. I've gone through barren plains after bloody battles. I had to escape horrible things in the stifling darkness of forests.

I discovered the beauty in the cities of the elves and greatness in the mines of the dwarves. I shared my fire with woodland creatures and exchanged stories with a half dozen jugglers.

I brandished my sword with courage, magic invoked in times of need and the soles of my boots and just seems to scroll.

Pero ya estoy aquí. Tras meses de travesía me encuentro en la legendaria ciudad perdida. Entre el verde del bosque el reflejo del sol desvela dónde se encuetran los cristalinos edificios. Agujas de cristal que se alzan entre las majestuosas copas de los árboles.

El interior del templo está completamente iluminado por los rayos solares que crean hermosos dibujos al atravesar las paredes. Gran parte de los haces de luz se concentran en el centro, en una gran pila de piedra negra.

Por fin he llegado. 

Cuenta la leyenda que quien se asome y miré su reflejo en el agua encontrará el sentido of his life. Many are those who have come here and gone without daring to look. Abundant are also those who look after have succumbed to the madness ...

I go quiet and look out over the surface of the liquid element. Utter the ancient words and play with the tip of my finger to the surface. A strange feeling goes down my arm and my heart pressed hard. Accelerates. I can hardly breathe. Ceases. When the waves leave the crystal surface to disrupt my reflection is gone. Ment. If it is, but it has changed.

Now my reflection is in the interior of two brown eyes. Two eyes as deep as the sea and as bright as fairy dust. Do you see a light shade of green?

And find I'm smiling amazed

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Stormy night. The moon is hidden

Thunders. The waves hit the rocks with foam violence and jump in a vain attempt to reach the clouds.

The landscape is emerging only in shadow, black on black with every blast turns white.

The rain falls hard giving a vivid melody of the slow pace of the storm and the sea. The stormy wind is responsible for the choirs.

Behind the cliff, the majestic mountain presides over the show and in her skirts all dancing to the magical forest are.

And looking to the horizon just to the edge, two swaying in the wind shadow embrace and lost in the melody that the universe is giving away.

And their smiles light up the night.

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is too late. Bedtime ... I grab my jacket and go out into the street. The city that sleeps for hours and only the distant noise of some drunken breaks the stillness of the night. Fast track in the cool of the night. No fear or haste, I feel comfortable and the night is long. Just my feet have been the rhythm of my heart. Here again this smile. Do not want to leave.

not I look up and see it today. Perhaps she's jealous? Maybe, it must be difficult after centuries of poems, songs and metaphors to pass a background ... He'll get.

As I've got to turn that corner. My legs shake and my heart races. There is, looking out the window, more radiant Juliet. No need to be excused for not being able to download, or because I can not climb. There is nothing to forgive. Was only the whim of a crazy few hours inadmissible. Seeing her again was enough for me. And feel their enthusiasm has overwhelmed me.

"Good night my love. Sweet dreams.

The way back is instant and I'm in bed, imagining you're in my arms ...

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Night movidito ... Discovery

And the storm broke. Lying on the deck contemplate the sky. An impressive spectacle. Black clouds turn white, swirl and collide with one playing the older rhythm, the heartbeat of Gaia. Ray sinuous wriggle around as the rain blesses me with their freshness. Wade's boat is so relaxing ...

The rest of the crew shouts. Dead? No, thanks. Now do not touch. The beautiful pale lady face and dark robe sits with me and removing the hood discovers his long jet black hair.

- Do not fear me?

- Do I need to do?

"Maybe. I'm the end of everything you know. Joys and sorrows.

"Then I will not fear you, can be a better final," and died happy?

"A strange answer, never get to understand you at all, but especially intrigues me, mortal ...

"Oh, then come, fast, stand in front of me. Look into my eyes and there will be no secrets ...

After an eternity that lasted just a second, both look away. The night was tarnquila. Tears streaked his face.

- What happens?

"I never imagined that you could come to feel so ... I must go, I expect a long, full life.

"Good night then, gentle lady. We'll meet again, I guess ...

The bed was soaked and he remembered it all clearly. With the excuse, he could stare death in the face ... And what I saw in his eyes said it all ...

And in my reflection, I have seen what she saw ...

's just been a confirmation, but I am increasingly sure of variable meaning of life ...

And today is summed up in one word ...

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(First of all, apologies for the mono-forest theme ... but I'm a tad "Sylvan "....)

Vago by a forest where the green of summer has almost succumbed to autumn browns.

just a piece here, another there, glowing with green glow in the sun. Sparks of life hidden in the autumn serenity. Small beads reserved for the proper form.

Way, wander, stroll. One foot after another I discover the wonderful play of light through the foliage, the sounds of the creatures of the forest. And everywhere, I feel your presence.

Once again I get lost in your eyes ...

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Every lover is a poet in the head and a madman in the heart.

The green leaves filter the sunlight and the slight quiver of the wind draw intricate patterns on my skin ...

Silence. Peace. Reboso joy.

In my mind, the poet is working frantically. A beautiful smile, more so for being honest ... Impossible to hide a flush ... Deep eyes, of which I can never leave ... With that task is here to stay.

crazy In my heart cries out, sings, dances ... Want to take control, do not know, but it does.

And all my being surfing the promise of perhaps lost in the wandering of the desire of the minstrel and unbalanced ... Mixing fair, accurate and imagination, trying to shape reality at will.

While mad poet shudders entertain an element in me ...

Will my soul? Concerned at the possibility of meeting a wonderful soul?

Yes, my soul breathed a new freshness to the promise of another soul. Of a soul deep and mysterious as the fertile mountain valleys or black chasms forgotten the vast sea. A cheerful soul like music, like dance, as the frenetic life of the beings of the forest. A rebellious and wicked soul, who spend hour upon hour sharing ideas. And above all the promise of magic, that wonderful energy that only a few have ...

And I open my eyes and laugh. Rio because I pity me laugh because I'm happy. I live with dreams and hopes are met and because I know that I have the courage to try.

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And today I get to be a child, and my jugute world. A 297 km / h fast the landscape changes, different shades of green is happening ... I smile. I know everything when I see is mine, mine with just wanting ...

I play my brand gift once removed the satin ribbon and torn colored paper that I could see inside. Levanto hopeful vision for a moment, but I'm just, no more children to play with.

and wane, waning, waning ... I am engulfed in my toy: green, rock, blue glass and spin and hit me. Everything stops.

Bellows, rumble of distant drums, beats a huge heart. The sea pounds the rocks, with energy, with passion. Oh, treacherous seas, how many times I tried to deny your love and today, the first contact, and I know the river childishly in love with you. Vast sea, eternal sea, promise of greatness, delivered muse, with whom I can share you?

promises and dreams that can never be fulfilled, walk among rocks and caves lulling your pace, caressed by the breeze and I need a hand with mine. My soul needs another soul, someone who read my words and with a tear on the cheek (or maybe a drop of rain) I stole a kiss.

The storm is coming, my soul is shaken with the roar of thunder, eager to grow, develop from the coast to the mountains and riding the dark clouds get you wherever you are, whoever you are, as you tear through your recognize you and your kiss will take my soul. At that moment a new story will begin and the covenant, my muse, will be closed. That kiss, if your simple promise and inspired my words, raise my soul to places unknown to me, but, I suspect, there, and I'll grab your hand so that you can also see them.

write. I'll write. We write. We write our own place, a corner between fantasy and reality where we can shelter if something goes wrong or need privacy. Whether you're a lady of the forest, a people's princess of the fairy or the most humble among humans, you will be queen and I'll minstrel. I'll be a goddess and a poet will be legend, story, song, poem ...

Longing to know and see the world as so imagine how I want, I long to feed my soul with the beauty or the same Gea man has created. Find other souls, changing stories stories, images, memories, a tear and a kiss snatched.

The storm stops and I have not found. I become a small man to be great to play a crazy dreamer in search of their history. A man with a pencil and a notebook, that's my only power, my only possession of value now. The blue horizon is quiet. That strange smile back to me and I find myself wanting to sing. The way back is still long and cold, I leave here today, but my journey begins and before the sea and rocks promise I'll find you and your tears will be my kiss.

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Evolution of a soul ... White

First excuses because it was an afternoon quite complicated ...

I know the first part is more artistic, but really what I was comfortable with what the end was that he was not inspired but needed to vent ...

murmuring among yourselves I do not excessively so, it was just a strange day (even though deep down I like)

Version: 1.0 StartHTML: 0000000168 EndHTML: 0000007139 StartFragment: 0000000468 EndFragment: Oh

0000007122 fairy.

Oh girl. Oh

black cat. Oh

muse.

Oh

fairy who danced among the trees that were my dreams. Oh

innocent girl who laughed and looked for my protection. Oh

black cat that seduced me in the night, delighted me with your rebellious and scratched my soul with passion.

Oh my muse. You who inspired my spirit. Your aroma, the warmth of your flesh, the freshness of your smile, your joy ... served to feed my imagination and encouraged thousand and one stories fleeting.

Fairy because you were fantasy.

girl because you're innocence. Gata

because you were untamed and wild. Musa

because you were inspired.

Me:

Storytelling.

Child.

faithful dog.

Duende.

A mere buffoon. A naive storyteller who needed to remember that every story has an ending. A child who feels desarropado. A stray dog. A goblin not laugh.

Jester and storytelling because my soul wants to create, entertain and make you think.

Child care and home because I need and desire to laugh.

dog because I'm looking for who to be loyal. Duende

because I love nature, the occult and fun.

And sometimes:

I'ma writer. I

wolf. I

angel.

Writer joys and sorrows. Molding the words as I pleased and I feel wonderful to my readers.

Lobo faithful to his flock. Powerful, agile and attentive to my own. Noble creature, feared by man.

Angel because I unfold my wings and fly. I rise and see the world at my feet, and only wish you well.

Writer for molding sentiment. Lobo

because I feel powerful.

Angel because I can fly.

duality, complexity, doubt, truth ...

knots in my soul, clarity ...

Joy, joy, sorrow, sadness ...

Is this the soul of God?

Are the conditions for creating?

"To shape and name?

I hope so, because that is my soul, and has felt and feels well. A soul that thinks he knows the pain and knows the joy. A soul that seeks to expand, give a bit of herself to everyone. A soul that loves the world, life, fantasy, reality. A soul that no longer fear death. A soul that feels great. A soul that knows negligible. A soul that has known the fear of loneliness and has gone through.

And today, compared to paper, I find that I know the secret of happiness and I am able to create. Today I know that I love, I am sad. Unrequited love I am friendship, I am all of you. I'm lying. I am the truth. I'm just one more than dreams of flying.

Dreams.

feelings.

a point.

Everything.

Nothing.

Eternity.

words without definition, concepts that the mind only touches the tip of your fingers metaphysical ... Wild ideas that threaten our peace. I want to tame them, capture them, tie them to my art and bring them closer to our understanding.

Science.

Math.

Mechanics.

Electricity.

Medicine.

What good progress, live longer and more comfortable if there are no dreams? If there is no hope? In what society do we live where the laziness, ignorance, murder, are rewarded with honors and fame as he ejected from his podium, the place they deserve, those givers of hope, of knowledge. Who has driven the true artists of his throne?

Fight. Shout

.

Run.

Pintado. Write

.

Sing.

Blow. Feel

.

Rise creators and show the world once again that beauty is food for the soul. That feelings must be shared and dreams realized. Illusion about the people who open them eyes light hurts to have them closed for so long. Raise the enthusiasm and hope in the hearts off and bring man back to its rightful place among the gods.

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rain

A PAST HISTORY

I go to the balcony and lean my back against the drive cabinet. The rain continues its melody. Each drop, each note, a beautiful memory I will treasure for siempre.Con my left hand tighten the die, right on the heart and ask the spirits once again, do you get my message, that the drops in your do emerge cheek to your lips that tender smile when you're in my arms. That these water kisses always make you remember all the beauty that we shared. Still raining and my mind memories of attending a green hillside on a late spring rain. A picture of two young lovers, who still are learning, laughing soaked. Already

no rain, only I have the consolation of rhythmic drip from the roof, so depressing, trying to be rain. Do not blame him, who would not want to be rain? Have the world at your feet and in a last moment to merge with it by accident. I wish we could drop of rain to innocently from slipping down your cheek and see if you really smile like I do now.

At these times, when life was heaven, I've been thinking about how small my life and arrogant that it will be the star of a big story, something that not everyone can achieve. Maybe it's time to fall from my cloud and I cover the earth with my feet firmly bound by gravity. Or maybe the opposite, maybe it's time for you to elevate as the water evaporated so that both share the same dream, so that, once again, our story can be envied for ever and ever ... I do not know, I do not know what will happen, but I decided that whatever happens, and until that happens, I will show my best side and I will give you all my love as before, if well received.

I'll stay here, listening to the leaking roofs, and calling once again be able to return to rain.

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was hot and I figured out another week with nothing else to do. The old shopkeeper went to the back and put the finishing touches to his work. He heard the jingle of bells on the door and went out to attend. He saw no one. He looked down. Behind the counter was a girl with deep brown eyes that smiled.

- "What are you doing? - She asked innocently.

- I build a snow ball - said politely.

- "Snow? "What's that?

- shake it and see ...

The girl took the crystal ball in his hands and shook with fear. Dozens of bright white dots and rose above the miniature town and began drawing down a silent waltz.

- I like the snow! "You have more?

- Not now, but if you come after tomorrow I will have a new totally different.

- Well! Goodbye - And, laughing, the girl ran from the shop.

spent a whole day and the next, the old man had finished building a new snowball different from above. In the afternoon, she entered the store and was impressed by the work of man, who promised that for every day that pass without her come to the store, build a new one. So the days passed and at least twice a week, the girl went through the store and the old man happy with his laughter and anecdotes.

Soon word spread that the old antique shop was a true artist and began to reach buyers from around the world TV even went to see him, but everyone said the same:

- These balls have a single owner and therefore I can not do business with them ...

An afternoon like any other girl entered the store and happy, even before he could teach his new work, he said,

- My parents say we're going to see real snow!

- I'm glad - the old man replied sincerely.

- "Construct more balls to come back?

- Sure, baby, will continue to build as before, do not worry.

And the man continued to work happily in the back room devising ever more exquisite ball. And so the months passed. And the expectation of the old man's work became so great that he agreed to create a small museum where you can share it with the rest of the world. And after years. And the man became increasingly famous and wealthy, yet nothing changed expression of apparent calm and gentleness, looking to infinity, as if waiting for something, something he knew would come at any time.

Until one day the man died. The next day at his funeral, everyone looked puzzled for a handsome young man with dark eyes crying in a corner and only heard him comment:

- Just a day later. Sorry.

That evening the girl went to talk to a lawyer claiming to be the heir of all man-made and signed a contract under which all local children once a year receive a scholarship to go with their families on a trip to see the real snow.

And the night of that day will be remembered for generations and was commented on throughout the entire country. How in the middle of August, in a village where they had a century without seeing it, snow fell for hours and covered the place with a thick layer of white magic ...