sexta-feira, 17 de abril de 2009

Sins or Sense

(fade in)
So, a box I am.
Carved with utmost care.
I don't feel weathered but
I am as old as time.
Had I feelings,
I would feel proud
'cause I am a god's given.
My secret is that I contain all the evils there are.
Diseases, misconceptions, extreme emotions, poison, contempt.
I must admit I only named a few
But I leave to you the gap filling.
My weakest point is that I have a lid.
The smallest part of myself.
I have a lid though I am resilient enough to sustain and imprison
such entities that inhabit my inside.
I cannot embrace the edges of the lid
Power to entrap, but helpless to avoid releasing.
Sorrow takes over
For it is totally out of me. Then I learn and pray.

(zoom out)
So Pandora I am.
I was born from love and
this universe is my home.
I dwell and I feel.
There is so much of it I cannot understand
What strikes me most
is a certain pain I feel inside, quite deep.
It's like a hunger which makes me
it's like a voice guiding me and
disposing of me as its puppet
it tells me it has discovered the wheel
and tamed fire and launched satellites,
it boasts of having created tribes, kingdoms, republics and
An assumed surrogate mother to philosophy
It takes me away.
But as a pet, it demands I feed it
It wants to be catered to.
It squirms and screams.
Alas, should I not take it seriously
It becomes whimsical and bad-tempered
it starts a storm in my soul
unearthing and revolving
I go crazy and come back in a blink of eye
So I want to know who you are
What you do and who you love
Do you love?
Do you care? Do you really mind?
Mind the gap.
But for me the gap gets blurry
That energy poisoning my guts and
moving my limbs
I feel like puking it
but I can only cry blood.
The urge to know, to discover
I become indiffent to indifference.
It's gratuitous, it's pointless
I am aware.
I cannot fight it though or try not to
So I open the lid
And my eyes goggle
I burst into laughter
I accept it.
Laughter becomes a shriek
I am the bearer of despair
I am Eve and that's my sin
But Adam is curious too
I could have chosen not to
And my last sigh is
nothing else but a question
will you forgive me?

(zoom out)
(camera traveling from right to left)
(zoom in)
So Man I am.
Molded from clay and dust.
Dweller of Paradise
Living in a Golden Age.
I am self-control and balance
I cannot but be innocent.
But fire and water fall from the sky
We twirl and understand.
We crack.
Then at this very moment
We get tainted.
All stumbling and dying
Questions arising
A wish to know better
I greet all the evils
and they suit us well.
No more Paradise.
I am everything, but who am I?
Who are you?
Can I touch you?
(fade out)
Therefore I am
The Box Pandora Man.
Curiosity and freedom
Self-control and shame.
life is a flower
"they want me, they want me not...
they want me, they want me not..."

Salvo engano

Na minha postagem anterior (Starless Sky) fui um pouco discuidado e por isso, fiz um adendo apologético a ele.

Algumas pessoas, uma amiga em especial, me apontou um "questionamento" e me fez escrever a seguinte resposta:

Um lindo desdobramento do texto encontra-se aqui

A resposta:

Estava lendo um livro muito bonito e em uma hora o autor fala que pra se fazer uma revolução (socialista, no caso), é necessário que se esteja insatisfeito com o presente. Óbvio! Não só isso, pra revolução ser efetivamente vitoriosa, é preciso que o presente seja ultrapassado, que ele como presente fracasse, pra que um novo presente, uma vida mais justa e feliz possa ter lugar. Dessa forma, do fracasso do presente depende o sucesso do futuro, senão a gente fica vivendo um eterno presente.

Assim, apesar de não me referir diretamente ao socialismo e ao mundo, já que me refiro a uma revolução interna e pessoal, a do menino (que nem por isso deixa de estar imerso nesse mundo passível de uma revolução), as palavras do menino são de um pesar consciente de que não é só o vazio, mas tudo pode mudar, e pra melhor.

Nada de conformismos. Nossa vida deve ser inconformada.

E lembre-se o cárcere às vezes liberta... (pro bem ou pro mal)