#AFORISM 613/OLD AGE DRIPPING ON THE PIECE OF LIFE# - GRAÇA FONTIS: PAINTING/ILLUSTRATIVE ART Manoel Ferreira Neto: AFORISM

And the poet told me:

"Poetry is the fruit of the night and of solitude in the half-light, the guide of the mind in celebration." Hope is the taste of desires and desires, the taste of living for the word, the rhythm that evokes silence. Into the poet´s written, the night dances romantically on the edge of the earth, dances and kisses the bar of the world, an alcove where the rays of light rest, when not uncontaminated by the fury of nature.

But it's not all about partying or dancing. It is not all pleasure, happiness, joy. He is also a trapezoid, a child crying in the street of bitterness, on the corner of misery, old age dripping on the piece of life, they are stumbling steps of a man with a long beard, empty-handed and tired face, asking for shelter on Christmas night. .. "

I asked the poet:

"Why do flowers look sad when they decorate the altar of death? Why is the dance of the birds broken, when the sun faints in the bar of time? Why is the child a foliage and old age is solitude? danced on the roof of life, if the body descends into the deep silence of the submerged? "

The poet took a pulled on his cigarette, coughed, looked at me, and replied,

"So, there, like here, outside or inside the wall, life compares to the sound of a violin in an out of tune, in the song of the lyric without rhyme ... You can not tone down your life, you do not give birth at night."

(**RIO DE JANEIRO**, 05 DE MARÇO DE 2018)