Sometimes I wake up in the morning and see a light next to me, is
a particular light has a milky hue, almost ghostly, is the
my soul back in his shell, inside of me.
Lost in the desert green and purple, I wander aimlessly,
in the company of my faithful friend, courage.
In the distance I hear the slow chant of people going to see,
are the walkers of the dark, I decide to meet them, but first I do something with the berries of a plant unknown to the terrestrial world I paint my face in their honor, is a form of death and magic.
Arrival at the camp with their arms to heaven in peace, they liked my painted face, a mask of death and magic, at this very moment they are doing a ritual, he explains their leader, a rite to fall into a trap near the island's inhabitants, the leader explains the reasons for the ritual, a month before a delegation of strange people had arrived on the island of Zamoras with strange machines that floated on the sea, took the women and children and took them away, now they were ready with the makeshift boats to go on the other island, for revenge and understanding, feeling and knowing the story their way, I can not ask if they need a hand, they are happy with my gesture, walkers are a dark people winning, and they complimented my makeup on the face, a form of death and magic, you just have to decide everything and go on the other island, the chief tells me he knows the history of Ikal and their purpose, is happy about this and tells me that I was able to give voice to the souls of silence, you hear the voices and souls roam free, and help those in need, with nothing in return, as a form of death and magic.
(Text dedicated to the Goddess Fairy.)
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