Love came and whisper to me,
your life is finite,
and you an exquisite imperfection,
someday you will fall like the leaves
and your blood won't be red any more,
you will pass the gate of silence,
at the intersection between the forgettable before
and the unending after,
so, don't put it off,
find the sun on your eye
and the songs on your heart,
give rest in the poetry of light.