—Yeah. —I haven’t seen too many around lately. Things have been tough lately for dreamers. They say dreaming is dead, no one does it anymore. It’s not dead it’s just that it’s been forgotten, removed from our language. Nobody teaches it so nobody knows it exists. The dreamer is banished to obscurity. Well, I’m trying to change all that, and I hope you are too. By dreaming, every day. Dreaming with our hands and dreaming with our minds. Our planet is facing the greatest problems it’s ever faced, ever. So whatever you do, don’t be bored, this is absolutely the … Continue reading Hey, are you a dreamer?

La vera forza sta nell’umiltà. È nelle pieghe della semplicità che il potere autentico risiede, al riparo dalle luci abbaglianti dell’ego e dell’arroganza. Come un fiume quieto che scorre inesorabile, così l’umiltà guida la nostra grandezza interiore. A volte basta pochissimo alla grandezza. Un sorriso, un gesto gentile, una parola sussurrata nel momento giusto: queste sono le scintille che accendono i fuochi dell’animo. In un mondo in cui le voci si elevano per sovrastarsi l’una con l’altra, sono le azioni silenziose che echeggiano più lontano, toccando i cuori e cambiando destini. Così, camminiamo con passo leggero, riconoscendo la nostra piccolezza … Continue reading Umiltà

Love, a force that transcends time and circumstance, I arrived to nurture your seeds that tremble in the face of winter’s chill. The anxiety of what lies ahead is not born from the uncertainty of uncharted paths that may lead to missteps, but rather from the lingering weight of past mistakes we struggled to bid farewell. It’s when we grasp that the keys to our confinement have always resided within our reach, that we can truly herald the arrival of a new year. Pardon the apprehension of revisiting those dusty chapters of your life. Understand that renewal and rebirth are … Continue reading I arrived to nurture your seeds …

I am the color of the sky, the vast expanse of blue that stretches beyond the horizon, the endless possibilities and dreams that soar high above. I am the freedom and the hope that whispers in the wind, the gentle touch that reminds you to keep reaching for the stars. I am the color of the earth, the grounding force that connects you to the roots of your being, the stability and resilience that holds you steady in the storm. I am the foundation on which you build your life, the solid ground that supports you through every trial and … Continue reading Who am I?

Mãe! Vem ouvir a minha cabeça a contar histórias ricas que eu ainda não viajei! Traz tinta encarnada para escrever estas coisas! Tinta cor de sangue, sangue! Verdadeiro, encarnado! Mãe! Passa a tua mão pelos meus cabelos! Eu ainda não fiz viagens e a minha cabeça não se lembra, senão de viagens! Eu vou viajar. Tenho sede! Eu prometo saber viajar.Quando voltar é para subir os degraus da tua casa, um por um. Eu vou aprender de cor os degraus da nossa casa. Depois que eu chegar, vou me sentar ao teu lado. Você costura e eu te conto sobre … Continue reading Janeiro — 2016

The anger in me cannot write poems. It sits and watches as my words try not to deafen me. It spits in the face of anyone who tells me they see only ‘one human race’ while these humans bloody the sun with innocent blood. The anger in me cannot write poems. It sits and watches as all the words break into a million stanzas, trying to fit into my tongue. I find I cannot make words; it is sitting somewhere in the corner of my heart, reminding me it will be here when I am a bit calm. The earth … Continue reading The Anger in me …

In the depths of your gaze, laden with sorrow, I find the raw material for my verse. I mold your pain into words, weaving a tapestry of poetry that is meant for you alone. Your weathered hands, marked by the relentless passage of time, I offer mine as a gentle reprieve, a sanctuary of solace. Upon your lips, tinged with bitterness, I bestow the gift of flowers, a reminder that your name evokes the essence of a beautiful day. In these moments, I speak of hope, cradling you in the embrace of the night, adorning you with the tapestries of … Continue reading To your eyes

Poetry is a love affair between the soul and words, a dance of emotions and thoughts intertwined. It is the way of the heart to express its deepest desires and fears, to whisper its secrets and dreams to the world. In the delicate balance of rhythm and rhyme, the soul finds solace and release. Each word a brushstroke on the canvas of the heart, painting a picture of the innermost feelings and yearnings. Through poetry, the soul speaks its truth, weaving a tapestry of emotions that resonate with the hearts of others. It is a prayer, a plea for understanding … Continue reading Poetry is a love affair between the soul and words …

In the quiet corners of history, where the whispers of the oppressed echo through time, there lies a profound truth. A version of Christianity that tramples the poor and marginalized in favor of the rich and powerful is a religion completely at odds with the teachings of Jesus. For in the heart of the Nazarene’s message, there beats a rhythm of compassion, a melody of justice, and a symphony of love for the least among us. Jesus, the humble carpenter from Nazareth, walked among the downtrodden, the outcasts, and the forgotten. His hands, calloused from labor, reached out to heal … Continue reading “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest … “

Listen, life, to this echo of despair, to my plea to not-be, to this seething ache that ravages my being. Guide me toward something, anything, to unshackle me from this gnawing anguish. Untangle my ties with you, Life. Transform me into something not-me; grant me the unexpected blessing of oblivion, for I feel the acute convulsions of existence. Stop my thoughts, let them drift far from desperation. Have mercy, embrace me in your darkness so I cannot see the sadness I have become. Obliterate me, Life, but do not leave me diluted in this half of myself. Grant me the … Continue reading Ode to a Troubled Soul