Sliding down the wall of being
A drop of misleading guidance
will always be better than some avalanche of rightousness.
Anonymous
A drop of misleading guidance
will always be better than some avalanche of rightousness.
Anonymous
Quanto depende um do próprio e do seguinte?
It was time for a much delayed incursion into the land of dreams.
The battlefields of incongruity were the same as they've always been.
Traces of future comings fought impossible desires, to become trapped in the nets of memory.
To be a fly in the wall in these fields was always an exhilaration.
An extra on a set where the director and protagonist commands and rewrites at each turn of the page. A flower in a field below the flight of an eagle. The forgotten dead in the experiments of a mad scientist or the incognito helper for the torturer of the enemy's army.
All these were the desires and fears of the dreamer.. Seldom were the blinks of premonition. Even seldomer were the perceptions of such prints on the mind.
But sometimes, one would pick at random a light in a dark corner, a face at a distance, the color of the books in a shelf. And they would write it in the back of their mind. For later remembrance.
And they would say: "I've seen this before..."
I really can't stand dreams.
Anonymous
Um caminho tem duas direcções por onde passam muitos ventos. Dois destinos e duas origens. Dir-se-ia que os ventos erodem, mas estes que aquecem, constroem.
You run at your own pace, I am counting the strides.
And all keep on passing the same goal marks
Anónimo
When do you start to be a “teacher”?
And believe your truth to be the one
To propagate
And do you start to become aggressive about it?
About you being sound and have experience on
The consequences of not knowing
Your truth…
To the listener the warning not to listen completely
And to forge your own sound.
Only mine should be the wind in your ears.
Anonymous
Será que tolero o "tolero" porque quero ser tolerado?
Serei tolo?
Se com quem me dou é, então serei também...
E que o hospício está cheio de "génios".
Nunca é tarde, mas por ser tarde posso já não ir a tempo.
Anónimo
Certo dia Qualintefaro observa um único salmão em direcção oposta ao seu cardume. Seus irmãos lutam e saltam e embatem contra pedras para chegar ao local da desova.
Qualintefaro pergunta então a este salmão:
- Onde vais tu? O teu caminho não é esse.
O salmão salta então para terra e enquanto morre diz:
- Outros nadam e voam. Apenas queria andar..
Anónimo
and you watch it comin'
with a steady chime
and a slow hummin'.
It hits you with might
and you bend,
and scream,
bellowing some light.
You see then where you are
and how you got
to what you got
for what you thought
'tis just to far.
Anonymous