Nuevo Sencillo  #MamitaMaria de la Producción "Santos o Nada".
@marilazos18

Ciudad de Panamá 2013.

Mamita María

Athenas - Santo  Guitarra, grabación y edición: Jonatan Narváez

UN HERMOSO CANTO DE LA CUAL NOS RECUERDA DE QUE DIOS NUESTRO SEÑOR SIEMPRE ESTÁ CONTINUAMENTE TOCANDO A LA PUERTA DE NUESTRO CORAZÓN. (AP 3,19-20)

Jon Carlo - Te Necesito (Música Cristiana Católica)

Desde El Salvador este bello ministerio catolico.

Junto A Ti María - Ministerio catolico Kerigma

YOUTUBE: https://www.youtube.com/user/Urbangelizando
MUSICA URBANA CATOLICA: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCK_WoUaDSvxGvmzg9KqnHtQ
Copyright © Todos los Derechos Reservados 
COMPRA DISCOS ORIGINALES (ITUNES /AMAZON/CD BABY)
JOVEN CONOCE Y AMA TU FE…


Musica Catolica Urbana -  Vive En Mi - Proyecto De Amor comaloapa

Merecedor de Alabanza - Rafael Taboas

Some roads return, not to be undone,
but to lay their shape in the feet of someone.

A May long gone, yet never far,
A hearth of voices, a waiting star.

In this world — or maybe not quite —
We ride a train toward memory’s light.

The bell rang low at the end of day,
Tima burst out in her half-mud ballet.
Mam had her coat, I had the chips,
She skipped in time with salt on her lips.

Crosskeys glowed in the early spring,
Eira came knocking with a science thing.
They sprawled by the fire, crayons in hand,
Fireman Sam on telly, nothing too planned.

The garden hummed with its dusk-time tune,
And Tima fell fast in the lap of the moon.

Pendragon, child of smoke and tree,
You carry old songs back to me.
Though grief may rest, it breathes again —
In train-light dreams and windowpane.

Up with the birds and the kettle’s wheeze,
Wrapped in jumpers and marmalade knees.
We caught the bus through Risca still,
A snug café on the windy hill.

Train to Newport, London next,
A blur of tunnels, half-checked text.
Tima pointed at clouds and clapped,
Sandwich in hand, her laughter snapped
The hush of Heathrow’s silver sprawl —
And then we flew beyond it all.

Tima asked, “Are we in a song?”
I said, “We’ve been one all along.”
The train hummed softly like a hymn,
As Pendragon’s name rode through the dim.

Pendragon, child of wave and wind,
You walk where time forgets to end.
From hills of mist to Norrland rain,
You sing her name and feel no chain.

Somewhere past the birch-lined bend,
The train kept on with no clear end.
Tima stirred before the bell,
Whispered, “Eira’s up. I’ll come as well.”
They sat in the café, knees still tucked,
Sharing biscuits from a paper cup.
Me and her Mam, half-dressed, came through —
I said, “Is this tea?” She said, “It’ll do.”
The world outside was still not real,
But their sleepy laughter turned the wheel.

May fog wrapped the tracks, "blått på en stund",
The train slid slow into Ostersund.
Modryb Bekka grinned ear to ear,
Modryb Ia wiped one small tear.

Juni shy in her bunny hood,
Clara squealed like only babies could.
Eira and Tima with suitcase pride,
Spoke of dragons they’d ride inside.

The car was packed, the road was thin,
But every laugh let more light in.

Pendragon, child of root and rhyme,
The May returns before its time.
Songs of Hal-an-Tow and spring’s green flame,
Where grief grows soft, but stays the same.

Town square ribboned in dance and sound,
Petals and boots on dewy ground.
Mam sang a verse of an older age,
A song like moss, a turning page.

Tima danced though she lost the beat,
Laughing too hard to feel her feet.
And we stood, a circle, barely planned,
But whole in the way that only love can.

The house held echoes in every stair,
Forks too many, stories to spare.
Ghibli flickered in a pile of knees,
Tima and Eira in blanket seas.

Clara snored like a baby bell,
Juni whispered about a wishing well.

At the table, a pause, a pour, a hush —
And Mam said, “Oh no I think I forgot my toothbrush.”

Peter raised his glass, words in swedish just to try
“Nu dricker vi märg i benen!”
I said "Uncle Pete just wants to get drunk, not gonna lie"

I have been a book in the origin,
A voice where loss and love begin.
Though I am small, I hold the sun —
And I shall be better for you, my one.

And the May didn’t feel like a season,
but something spoken, once, in full trust.

*We lit no candle.
We sang no hymn.

We just let her name return to limb.*

Pendragon. Always. Again.

Athenas - Santo Guitarra, grabación y edición: Jonatan Narváez

Yariuska Crespo

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Sanin Alberto Mendoza

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