I find meaning
In the dark shadows of death,
In the thoughts of missing parts,
Of what has been excluded,
On things our childish existence can't notice.

Whereas you, in your anchor to life,
Find meaning in the deepens of yourself,
Your body and the immanent love,
The contact with whatever can be felt,
In the euphoria of self discovery.

As a consequence,
Our house is too big for us,
The future, too repetitive,
I cannot contain life within me,
And all you do is hold on to it.

There's beauty in all of them,
It's, beside all metaphysics,
A matter of the space we occupy,
At the same time,
At the same coordinates.
Too much we compete for the same place
We end up in complete different desires.

I watch a man passing by
Doing nothing more with my time
Counting his steps,
Hearing the wooden-like sound of his shoes,
His walk was my walk,
My eyes followed him,
My mind slowly melted his.

With my body standing still
And my wandering mind,
I could exist in two places at a time,
I could see myself from far away,
While remained tied to the chair by the window.
I could open my safe of secrets,
Old rusted chambers
Where I long ago hid my shames,
My fears of exposure,
My incompleteness,
My anti-hero inherent in myself.

I saw the beauty and the ugliness inside,
I saw a oneself, myself, ambiguous,
Duplicated and conflicting,
Incoherent (but not less real),
I heard musics never written
For their lack of sense,
I found meaning within sands of logic,
I discover flaws and shouted them
Testifying my own matter.

But all from a distance,
In the walk of a stranger,
In the innocent look of shoes tapping the asphalt,
In the confused thoughts of a suddenly awaken child.
All of that can only be done
In a delusional state of being
For distance
Is our only weapon
Against ourselves.

I'm happening in between
The real and the nothingness,
Divided and undecided,
Waiting for the ultimate prove
Of a sure choice.

I'm caught between
The wheels and the leather,
Cotton and glycerin,
Fruits and caramels,
Meats and grains,
Wind and coal,
But existing in all of them at once.

There's pain, passion and desire
In the seek of gold,
In pursuit of patents,
In achieving medals.

There's a unique relaxation
In the void of beings,
In dematerializing that inner voice,
In decharacterizing oneself,
But still self recognizing simultaneously,
An identity stored in the clouds
Like Theseus' ship.

The subtle finding
Is to realize that the actually real stuff
Are the ones that can't be touched;
Everything in matter
Are nothingness, perceived only
Through the illusion
Of the senses.

We strive for numbers
To seek productivity,
Followers, approval,
But most of the time,
They come unexpected.

To think in things we see
Is to see less;
Numbers are as distracting
As distant thoughts
In things we could reach
If whatever "ifs" happened.
Feelings must be whole,
Untamed,
For the sake of whatever we have
Rather than feelings.

Numbers are lack of confidence.

I'll eventually die for it
Whenever life ceases to be interesting,
Or experiences starts to feel dull,
The mysteries of beyond shall drag me into it.

I hope that takes a long time,
I'm happy that now
All it takes away
Are my resting and sleeping hours
In trade of knowledge gluttony.

There is a big "no"
Dividing, mutilating
The feelings of a fatherland,
Turning a home into
A sum of rooms.

There is a "no"
To the fundamentals of civility
Whenever it is said
Criminals must die,
Queers must be content,
Whenever racism is defended,
Although hidden into lamb's costumes,
Of the paladins of Order and Justice.

A country cannot be built
Under so many tearing premises,
We, more than ever,
Need to rescue
What it means
To be Brazilians,
To be Us, again,
Not the imbecile crusaders
Against a self nightmare
Of the enemies dreams.

Underlying all ruins,
All chaos and all lack of trust,
There, untouched,
Stands an indian-african-european child
That, without any comprehensible words,
Will present the chromatic yarns of our fabric
In which any shred
Dissolves everything.

For union, never unity.

Sometimes we have to stand
Upfront the immensity and the abyss of nothing
To realize the only greatness
Lies inside.