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As pequenas coisas

O caminho é o mesmo, parece. O mesmo! Mas as pequenas coisas, essas mudam a cada dia. Desde que abri os olhos posso ver as pequenas coisas. Não quer dizer que as vejo desde que nasci. Não é isso que estou dizendo! Elas estavam aí, eu sei, mas eu não as via, as pequenas coisas. Eu as vejo agora e foi preciso uma longa jornada, uma longa e difícil travessia, para ver as pequenas coisas pelo caminho. 

Já ando por esse mesmo caminho há um tempo. Já passei por ele antes, em outras ocasiões. Mas   antes eu não via as pequenas coisas. Tenho certeza que já estavam aí e que pisei nelas, esmaguei-as  talvez, até mesmo matei algumas delas, mas eu não as via.   

Minha mãe, creio, quando estava por aqui, via as pequenas coisas e tentava mostrá-las para mim, mas eu não as via. Não havia tempo para as pequenas coisas então. Eu tinha pressa, eu tinha coisas a fazer,  eu tinha raiva, eu corria muito e rápido. Não havia tempo para as pequenas coisas. Ela as encontrava  no alto, geralmente. As árvores, as flores, os passarinhos, os céus... Elas podem estar em todos os lugares. Agora eu sei.
Eu percebo com gratidão o que ela tentou fazer, minha mãe. Mas há um tempo para cada um de nós. E aquele era o tempo dela, não o meu. O tempo dela de ver as pequenas coisas, apreciá-las, saboreá-las. Agora é o meu. Elas não estão no alto, as pequenas coisas que vejo. Eu as encontro pelo chão, espalhadas, simples e belas. 

Foi apenas quando meu coração expandiu-se e eu abri os olhos que pude vê-las por onde passo todos os dias. Elas brilham e iluminam o caminho. São folhas, verdes, novas, marrons, mortas, secas... São sementes e flores, botões, florescendo, murchando, mortos, coloridos, vivos... São formigas, trabalham duro, determinadas, carregam o peso do mundo, diligentes, com sua fé cega...  

Elas me fazem feliz, as pequenas coisas. Mostram-me beleza, delicadeza, impermanência, esperança. O vento as traz, o homem as varre para longe. Elas voltam no dia seguinte. Elas insistem em seu direito de existir.  

Estão aí para todo mundo ver, espalhadas pelo caminho. Você também talvez as veja quando fizer sua jornada, quando atravessar seus portais, quando seu coração se expandir e você abrir os olhos. Você talvez as veja, as pequenas coisas, e que elas lhe tragam felicidade também.  



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