AT DAWN IT WAS

At dawn it was
911

When at dawn in lazy path barely appearing,
 the morning was filled with sorrow  
the dream was  gone in darkness
 ¡Cannot be! To have loved so much
 the bridal nubile feel,
 a light so brief,
turned a wreaked charm.
 So big a passion, the wind, the rain,  
the blue beyond.
 ¡Oh! the abyss of age,
the ringing of the bells  
in faulty towers of unearthed harvest,
 the dawns of boiling veins,
the whispers of ghostly diaries
, the taste of roses dead in broken vases,
the anguish of the Calvary,
 the longest hour of the climb.  
 ¡Cannot be!
Abandoned breathing candles  
In the darkest clouds of the myth,  
delirium, painful sores... the dark.