Bodies falling from the sky, 
like drops of dreams, 
like sweet lies. 
Without wings, 
and only with our souls.. 
we are able to fly, 
fusing with the sky…becoming one. 
In my dreams, 
the sky is like a canvas, 
my soul all colors, 
and my body a feather brush, 
in the hands of a blowing child. 
I love life more than my own life. 
To die we have to live, 
to wake up we have to sleep, 
to finish we have to start, 
to leave we have to arrive, 
these are the reasons why, 
flying keeps us alive. 
My new thoughts, kill my old ones, 
my new me, kill my old one. 
We must dream, 
to let the day die 
we must fly, 
to let our bodies disattach. 
in the sky…. we set them free, 
they never die, 
they just go to another dimension, 
like this…like there…like that.

Diciembre Aguilar