In frenzy of our Pandora
Life grips us necklaced
You don't die on its grip,
You borrow time,
To think of a woman with the color of fire
The magic,
Beer and the confessions of hope,
A safe place,
Where the sun does not set,
Nights of reckless nakedness and photographic orgies and yet on the crossroads
You still are not lost, empty maybe but not lost in the race of life with legions of beautiful distractions.