Is It Crimson Or Is It Carmine?

…cold air
froze our breaths
Fall in its end
threw the last
all color leaves
city lights
bedazzled
the dusty street
we were not
strangers
who ride
furiously
madly and
deliberately
on the wild
stream of
the winds
nor we had
had ever
realized
who was so
kindhearted
wise and
clever to
bring us
here to
descend us
here in
this land
where we
never understood
was it washed
with the crimson
of the heaven or
with the carmine
of the blood
the hearts
were pulsating
we buzzed
like bees and felt
warmth of our beings
for far far to long
than a mere human life