My silence about things is like a knight who saw from the comi | Thoughts Hub

My silence about things is like a knight who saw from the coming evil the equivalent of bread, roses and diamonds stretched in abundance under the soles of his hands while the river sparkles with the possibilities of blood. What if my horse stumbled with my words and plunged into the valleys? What if the oceans ended up in a hybrid spot between people and tents? What if my pen slipped before drawing the first letter, while drowning betrays many letters with sayings that drown and others that you pull by their hair, whenever the water flows, you are shortened? Or did you choose your digging tools with your own hands until you became a statue that shook whenever they passed, a white marble above the sea roses, perhaps if they drowned?