Skip to main content

Gentileza em tempos de selvageria





Plantar gentileza em tempos de selvageria
Escolher o sim ou o não
Perceber que o verde das folhas não é um único verde
Cada uma em suas nuances, suas finas curvas e linhas
Como rugas que caminham em nossas faces
Cada tom, bandeira, água, amarelado
Como os envelopes de cartas de um primeiro amor
Eterno em devaneios
Leve em bolhas de sabão

E o não saber o que é reto, o que é correto e certo
se não o íntegro de si
que é nada além da matéria do sonho
e o concreto do desejo
e do sexo.

Essa busca pelo que é lá no fundo de si
Que salta daqui para ali
Que não sabe mais ser contido em um continente
oco que um dia coube o mundo
Hoje vazio e entupido
Como se pudesse ser tudo ao mesmo tempo que vácuo

O ontem e o amanhã
no mesmo barco
porque não se sabe o que é um ou o outro
E toda essa história de sim e de não é tão balela
quanto essa ideia de gentileza em tempo de selvageria
Suportaria talvez um dia?
Duraria quem sabe o sopro de uma vela
esse amor eterno  em fantasia

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

When a murderer lives inside your head

Schopenhauer says to live is to climb a mountain and when you see what is waiting for you on the other side of the mountain too early in life, you can never climb it the same way. I saw what was on the other side and decided I was simply not climbing that mountain anymore, unless pushed the way up. You wouldn’t realize that just by looking at me then. You wouldn’t see that I had quit. I would wake up, take showers, eat (actually there would be a lot of eating), go to work, do whatever obligation I was supposed to. I would even go out with friends or family. But if you looked really closer, you would realize I was only automatically responding to demands, except for the food. Food became my only source of pleasure. How was all the rest performed? At work, if there were tasks and deadlines, I’d do them, using no more than the basic skills required.   As to my social life, it rested on the plans of others. They would say when and where to go. They would pick me up and bring me ho...

I upset people (This may be the first of a series)

I feel I upset many people. Maybe it is something I do, but the feeling I get is that what upsets them is the way I live, the choices I make. People get upset with me when they hear I don't believe in God. If I tell them that I once did, but have lost my faith after I lost my first child, a premature baby, they fail to grasp the complexity of it. They look at me with irritating condescendent pityful eyes and they think I can be "fixed." To be fair, maybe I fail to help them understand that after what happened to me, God as I came to know it and most people of Christian beliefs do, is of no use to me.  God proved himself either nonexistent or useless to me when my first born died and when I almost followed him due to Eclampsia and Hellp Syndrome (Go ahead and google it! Unless you are doctor or had someone in the family who had this, you will never know it.) He did not save my baby and he did not spare me the excruciating suffering I had to endure. And if you think I...

Chinese man

  She got up and went to get a cup of coffee. “Damned headache!” Acute and deep, precise, the day ruined. -        -   As if a long, fine, pointy needle forced itself through my cranium, you know? A Chinese man with long mustache holding one point of the needle, manipulating it, pushing it very slowly. -        -   Why Chinese? Seriously, she could not believe it! A headache from Hell, dripping sweat after the coffee and that was the question? -        -   Why not? Is there a law against the Chinese? -       I was just asking! -        -   It’s my pain, isn’t it? If it’s Chinese, Japanese, Arabic, what is the difference? -        -   Forget it!    She regretted the rude reply, but did not apologize! Apologizing would require time, explanations, facing the Chinese man, pulling him by the mustache, immobilizin...