** MYSTIC TRUTH ** GRAÇA FONTIS: PAINTING Manoel Ferreira Neto: PROSAIC POEM

While Life runs so fast,

I open, vaguely, about Nothing,

About "Nonada",

My nightly look

Insomniac,

Past forgotten fantasies,

Dreams without sense,

The mystic desires the green mountain,

The forest of wild flowers,

The rivers of crystal clear waters,

The eternal of love, the caress of the face,

Simply embrace a little happiness

Kissing tenderly a little joy

Carefully caress a little dream,

Look humbly repipe

For another little happiness,

For another little joy,

For another little dream;

The deep silence

Desires from bodies the consummation of love,

The happiness of such bodies

- flexible and persuasive bodies,

The dancer whose symbol

And expression

They are the happy soul of themselves -

And such souls ...

What do they provide of circumstances to come?

What do they ask of future situations?

They are called “virtue”

The farewell to the last sun,

The hope of freedom.

From himself

Where will the believer go?

By himself

What will the heretic think?

Does the world show them profoundly indifferent?

Where will the believer's "self" really go?

Live conducting strange contradictions

At the body dance?

The rhythm of the streets and avenues

Invite them to get into the hustle and bustle?

@@@

If it is in my body that I am present to me, that I am present, I am present in it, with the absolute that determines it, with the supreme truth that solidifies and crystallizes it, this to soften the idea, it should be “diamondized”, it is in it also that I am a presence in the world, in the world I am present until death registers the final point, the ultimate nothingness, everything ceasing to exist, to be. By presence with me, however, I do not understand an impossible coincidence between me and me, the “me” and the “me”, the “self”, but the irreducible, categorical and absolute affirmation of the “I” that I am, my impossible separation from him in any act that affirms me, in any attitude that endorses me, in any delivery that shows me in any gesture that identifies me - [ent] - "ifique" the block that the "me" establishes, establishes the impossibility to leave me, not to be me, another being to be but what I am.

@@@

“(...)

Another, yes, not me. - "Bardo" without name,

With little alive; - on the land at night,

My body hurts, resting my forehead

On a log or stone or badly born shrub.

(...) "

#RIO DE JAN EIRO, APRIL 23rd, 2020, 14:11 p.m. #