#Blossoming

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unique ravine
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In a quiet village, a Red Angel blossomed.
Is it a miracle? Is it a omen?
In this village, there were no believers,
The Red Angel became a god.

Nature is beautiful, and we are born atheists.
Oh, love is pure, and we love without judgments.
Faith is blind, and justice is selective,
But it is in fear that demons are born.

In a citadel, the news arrived,
and the church does not tolerate new divinities.
The new order is to burn the Red Angel
With your worshipers in bonfires.

Nature is beautiful, and we are born atheists.
Oh, love is pure, and we love without judgments.
Faith is blind, and justice is selective,
But it is in fear that demons are born.

Look, the Red Angel rising furious.

wooden zealotBOT
unique ravine
#

flesh among flesh

A sketch of madness,
A sketch of passion,
few are the angels who awaken from illusion.
Intense moment, breaking the chains,
in the devotion of the pure, in artificial paradises.

A blind one happy in the darkness,
will always see light as its enemy.
In prayers, worshiping the darkness,
without knowing the sensation of illumination.

A silent grave devouring its soul,
its dreams will be forgotten at the crossroads.
Towards progress, progress of the celestial,
and irreversible will be the delight of flesh among flesh.

In a world of the cold,
with repressed feelings,
silence will always be its retreat.
Seeking freedom,
remaining imprisoned,
trying to fight against temptations will be like a drop in the ocean.

Freed angels go mad,
and paradise will turn into hell.
Devotion will turn into anguish.
Blessed be the ignorance
of the devotion of the pure, in artificial paradises.

Medals for the hunters of love.
Bitter are those who restrain themselves,
in the sorrow of memories never lived,
just a moment eternalized.

In a world of the cold,
with repressed feelings,
silence will always be its retreat.
Seeking freedom,
remaining imprisoned,
trying to fight against temptations will be like a drop in the ocean.