Fearless (1)

ecoming fearless is one of my biggest fears. Why, you may ask?
 Well, I think being fearless is one of the most horrible things you can be. Not because of the fact of being fearless, but because of what it actually means.

Fearing means you care. You care about something, or someone, so you are afraid of losing it (or them), and that’s because what you care for is important. It may sound silly, but why would it be?
I mean, it’s about important stuff, after all.

Fearless people, or rather, fearless attitudes, are usually seen like something good.
Why? 

Snow.

Magic, magic in the sky. Not the kind of shinies, not the kind of angels... there's magic of the most real, the truest kind. Magic that flows around.

Why is it there? Because it is cold. There's small clouds in front of your face, you feel the cold creeping inside you.

You feel it waking you up, making you feel alive. You jump, you run. You shout, happy and alive.

And there's magic.

Hazel eyes, lovely smile...

"Hazel eyes, lovely smile,
May I take you out tonight?"

She frowned. It was no good, she could not express it.

"Hazel eyes, lovely smile,
Shall we dance under this sky?"

She could not transform those feelings into words. But words were all she'd ever have, so this was a problem.

"Hazel eyes, lovely smile,
Will you stay with me all life?"

So it would have to do.

Here.

or all of you that feel down, who are used to cry rivers. For all of you that feel they don't deserve to be cheered up, to be carried, to be considered worthy.
All of you that have been attacked, not by words or weapons, but by your own feelings, your own self. All of you that, may it be because of your enviroment, stress, problems, or just genetics, feel useless, or failures, or simply wrong.

I'm here with you.

Alas (Final)

La mendiga, en su portal, no evitó sonreír

Y, cerrando los ojos, se oyó su suave reír

El muchacho, ajeno a esto

Continúo su obra, presto

Queriendo enseñar la esperanza encontrada al resto

Sin embargo, cuando el joven su obra acabó

Y a la mendiga para enseñarle el dibujo se acercó

Descubrió,con gran pesar

Que ella ya no podría despertar

Y una duda no tardó a su cabeza asaltar

"Habré llegado a tiempo?

Habrá podido esta señora

Volar como era su sueño?"