I was colorless, once. But then, I closed my eyes to the sound of the moon and the sun fading away from each other, the sound of absolute silence. It was raining, but my closed eyelids burned and turned into ashes, for my eyes to see. Oh, and they saw everything. And everything was so clear.
My eyes see so clearly now: the blue of the sky and its great depth, the green of the meadows and their infinity. The fiery red of blood and the black gloomy darkness of the night and the death it brings. Everything is so colorful, now. Now that the moon and the sun will dance such a dangerous dance, trying to find themselves again, trying to touch each other again. Now that silence is no more and my eyes are truly open.
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I have dropped my sword, love. I fell down on my knees for I was so tired and my hands were trembling weak. Now I can't get up. I am not strong enough. I know I'm not a boy anymore. I am a man, now. But I have dropped my sword, love, and I can't pick it up again.
One day, I walked back home and you weren't there. There was ice inside a glass on the top of a wooden table. I just stood there while it melted. Then, I drank it all up and left again. In the dark of those cold nights, I fought monsters and men. I painted my sword red with their blood and with my tears. But now, love, I have dropped my sword and I don't know the right way home. I am lost. Am I still a prince, without my sword, love? Can I be a boy again? Or is it too late? |
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