Ultima Tiempo en Pamplona Para Mi Mariposa. The last run in Pamploma with the bulls. This blue black beast you see has the wine of my heart on his mighty horns. He has made a bouguet of red roses on my white blouse that matches my red cinched belt. I am bleeding now and to my death. I see my angel in the mist and she is distant as always. Today after much Don Pedro, I drank the liguid courage to take the run. My friends and family tried to stop me, saying "Miguel, she does not want you, she loves another, she will never love you." The bulls were calling me and the Don Pedro was burning my stomach. I knew I would bleed in the streets and dampen the horns of some mighty bull. It was not a question. I thought if by chance, the Goddess of Love would save me and show my Paloma, my Mariposa that she was my only wealth maybe my fate would escape me. She had rebuked me for some time. I was lost in an ocean of love, I swam in it every day. I dove in it and stayed under until I could not breathe. It was not enough. I must run with the bulls and spill the sangria of my heart. I did that day, the big blue took me and flung me about like a doll. I felt no pain, the pain had already numbed me in the past. I felt nothing but release as my life's liguid seeped from my body. I saw the doves of El Centro fly away and she was with them, her wings so white and pure. As I flew to the sky, the bulls slipped in my blood into a huge pile and big blue was the only one standing, victorious over me in my death. But it mattered not to me, my family was right, she was never to be mine. Written by Miguel copyright by Michael Forbus