The Purple Sky And The White Horse’s Last Race (Or Time Sculpts Life)

Here I am, I’m gonna read an old contemporary poem, without contradiction
But please do not interrupt me
Can I start?

Sitting on a park bench
Reading about D. Lynch
Two men in black just crossed the street
Have no idea where did they meet

Suddenly they stared at me
And I looked back, but I let it be
The taller one had a black hat in his head
The smallest one looked like mad

Then I turned the street into the boulevard
They followed me till the next yard
All I recall, I heard my name
Just before I went insane

We’ve been made
Made simply by fate
Time sculpts life
And that’s my only advice

Magic or reality
Fiction or history
I swear it isn’t a lie
But I saw a purple sky

What we are talking about?
I said it out loud
Have you ever seen?
Yes, I have, and I was fifteen

The purple skies didn’t last long
Because in here, they don’t belong
They appear timidly
And leave us quickly

At the same day
All the horses ran away
The white horse’s last race
Hasn't taken its place

The white horse was the faster one
Don’t need to say it would be won
But the spell was cast
When we heard that blast

After all, the horses became sculptures
When the sky sank
And all the stuff turned to ashes
Then finally, time stand still, thanks!