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About Literature / Hobbyist Emerson Luiz Da Silva NascimentoMale/Brazil Recent Activity
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Sometimes I wonder if time ever goes by
If it really passes and leaves its seeds or if it stays in some kind of momentum within our souls
For we look other people in their eyes and eternity stands still
Hours and minutes sing a devotional song for a much greater thing
Something I can try to feel but I certainly fail when it comes to describing it or its properties
It's somehow that powerful feeling of integrity we all have when the world doesn't seem so far away
When we breath deep and walk with no rush
Or when we close our eyes and understand the silence within
All I know is that Life has its horror and its beauty
The sage follows its rythim, the fool sings its song
And I?
I close my eyes
The shadows of lost men reflect on our everyday decisions
Mistakes driven by others usually make we see what we most want to deny
That we are the angels and demons of our own existence and the paths we cross
We cross alone; the loliness speaks: "Flow, young wind, try to be the greatest and fail"
Its shadow takes our hearts in instants of sorrow, but something stays
That weird, troublesome felling of seeking; seeking for something we do not know
We travel the path to ourselves and we never turn back
After eras of wandering and searching, we see loneliness once more
It's an old man, behind a fire; "I've failed", we say
"Of course you've failed, how could you succeed?", he stares at the fire and grabs his coat
"Has anyone ever done it?"; he walks fast but suddenly slows down
"Has the moon ever touched the sun?"; a sky full of stars above and a heart full of questions below
"It doesn't need to, there's nowhere to get. When did men start to think they should get somewhere but to who they really are?"
He leaves, his footprints draw an uncertain thing, we try to see it, understand it
In the end, it only reflects our own image: wandering winds, looking for something, maybe ourselves
I hope we find it
Inicio de um projeto! Espero que tudo flua conforme a Natureza permitir! Boa noite :) .
Os caminhos de Brumnik
"Dizem que em seu topo o céu queima como labareda e é como se pudéssemos beijar o sol", disse, demoradamente, o bêbado que tentava catar algumas moedas em seu bolso enquanto o pesaroso Anão resmungava sua glória e sua sina: "Giant's Belt".


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Emerson Luiz Da Silva Nascimento
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
Brazil
Trying to figure that out too!

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