With the rise of the moon,
swords are knitting fights.
And in this vast white light,
screams, groans and drops of tears mesmerize.
The land turns dark, dark’n red,
leaving blue hearts on dying men.
Souls become transparent,
destroying the imagination that fades away.
Life stops unwittingly,
when all nostalgic memories are lost forever.
Fights that mesmerize the dying men,
fade away and are lost forever.
And when the sun defeats the moon,
not only nights are vanished but knights are befallen too.
The Thinker 