Pesquisar este blog

segunda-feira, 31 de outubro de 2011

Nada

Nada como a cama posta.
Me posto na cama, viro nada.
Vazio.
Escuridão.
Silêncio.

Nadar no vazio escuro e silencioso.
Ah, quanta liberdade!
Liberto no acorrentado paradoxo
de que a maior liberdade prende-se num sonho.

Sonho vazio, pleno de sentido.
Onde sente-se que o todo que se busca
em nada se resume.
Em resumo, nada somos.
Nada mais que silêncio, escuridão e vazio.

E o que precede o sonho é o futuro inevitável.
Aquilo que seremos. Aquilo que toda noite somos.
Silêncio.
No vazio da escuridão.

Um comentário:

  1. I didn't know you were a poet, but this must be expected from someone so full of words to write down! And what a promising one!
    Some say the sad or difficult moments in our lives can bring us great inspirations (let's just remember the immortal contributions from Rembrandt, Beethoven, Cervantes, to name a few), maybe we should be grateful for their blues.

    Sometimes silence is necessary for our ears listen to our inner dreams;
    other times we need the darkness to find the sparkles that will show us the way;
    but for sure we wouldn't survive without emptiness!

    It may be a paradox, as well, because if we were complete, if life was totally satisfied, then what to fulfil? What to live for?

    Perhaps this is the essence of our existence: having the freedom to think and believe in whatever we want, living in accordance with that, just to discover there's nothing in the end!

    Please, don't stop writing! The gift you received for free must be cultivated to flourish!

    Thank you for sharing!

    ResponderExcluir