Black, white and light (part 1) The only vivid breath remained untouched between her lungs. There she went, running among lakes of loneliness. She looked aside, but gloom was the only thing made out over the horizon. Perhaps, our moon smiled in tragedy and pain above her hair, crowned by thousands of fine pure golden colors, which were dramatically invisible by our daylight eyes. There she went, even now, she did not fail. The light was at the end, little swallow was reaching the end. It was her light; her crucifixion was the moment of death she lived upon, surrounded by endless paths that befuddled her, ancient memories that shocked her harrowing soul. There she ran to the best of her ability “I will pursue it” said she, in the exact way of silence, for no word was pronounced, just a torment made up a breath, an element called air that exited her body as in a race from hell leading into a second hell. All her energy was required so as to face up her running, and she claimed for heavenly help even though there was no evidence of such a melodramatic existence. She shouted in a sign of grim sorrow, since fear for not reaching her destiny was among her tears inside. We can just welcome her and give our considerations to her purpose. Some of us will join her and will run forevermore, beside her, through everlasting dances of mystery and blackness. But our sight, may I say, our voice will be clear and the main aim would place itself onto the highest podium though underrated under opaque blocks of grief. But one day, some of us will reach our destination, and will laugh as a joyful martyr. Some of us, even before her, even before our goddess to follow in her perpetual running, would become perfect beings by ourselves, though for just a moment, and for just another moment death would relieve us...