quinta-feira, 12 de fevereiro de 2015

Almost a children story

first chapter

for a long time i have been astray, wondering lost across the land. not only lost but alone too, with open hands holding air. well, those days are over, the hand is filled with hand and the air only circulates in the lungs. loneliness is but a moment when your body is too tired and your eyes too heavy and you must go to sleep, or later in time when you must die - this «must» it is not a moral duty, or at least not towards society only to nature and life.
and what about being lost, you ask. well, that's a condition that it is hard for me to clear off of my feet, as it is difficult to dismiss the amazement feeling i hold and dearly cherish every time i walk and see the world.

what i did? nothing, i didn't do anything. this wasn't a question of doing or not doing something, but rather of happening. something happened and i was blessed and met a lioness. i guess, as me, she was wandering too and maybe i too blessed her. nevertheless, i feel a power pulsing within and all thanks to her. she appeared out of nowhere, a black, blue, brown figure through a green field of grass, head held up high, proud as the queen she is, with steady steps as if she was plowing the land planting seeds. that walk stroke me as an unpredictable wave catching by surprise as you rise up from a deep dive on a beach, and still, every now and then, her walk sets loose something inside of me: a mouse finding its way in desire's maze.

that first day and the sequent ones - the earliest of the early days - we didn't exchange much words. i remember i questioned myself often: how do you speak to wilderness, to a wild thing, in which language must one speak in order to both beings freely understand each other? we found a way in the middle, though both of us weren't secure how to proceed. maybe this is how languages were created at the dawn of ages, by the collision of two lives and two wills bringing closer what lies at the distance around those two beings and the infinite inner landscapes of them, bearing at hand and mouth. what i mean is, we had to invent a language of our own, her being a lioness and i this old furry monkey.

she came from a distant land, a country called Hungar, where hunger lived in every place and in everything thing and being, a land where rivers were thirsty and rocks ate rocks. how she appeared no one can say for sure. some say, and i do believe it's true, she was born out of a tear of the last giant royal eagle. the last  of her new born baby eagles had just died, even before trying how to fly, and filled with huge pain she flew towards the sun. as she drew closer she started to burn feather by feather, but this crystal tear vibrating with immense love and passion for life fell from one of her golden eyes from the sky until it reached an almost dead seed thriving for survival. that seed grew into a plant and that plant blossomed into a flower and when the time came instead of what everybody was expecting, an open and colorful flower, out of it came her, this lioness. she stumbled out of the flower and rolled on the ground, but when she first put one of her paws, the front left one, on the side of the heart, to set motion to her walk, a cloud of dust liftted up from the land where river had thirst and rocks ate rocks, a cloud that gather all the dust of the land, and suddenly the wonder appeared, the earth was brought to life, and as she walked proudly with her head held high, just like i saw her walking on the first time, the green came covering the dirt and the cracked dried mud, the plants and shrubberies grew back to their form, the trees nourished fruits and plants and welcomed back the animals and no longer a river drank a river or a rock ate a rock.

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