Press me into a chapter of the book you wish you’d written. Let my essence live within the pages, a whisper between the lines, an echo of dreams and unspoken words. Tuck me in a cedar chest, nestled next to the things you used to love, where the scent of time past mingles with memories cherished and forgotten. File me away with the sepia-toned photographs of the journeys you took with the people who meant everything. In those faded images, let me be a silent companion, a presence that fills the spaces of your past with warmth and remembrance. Sing … Continue reading Keepsake…

Há dias em que tudo parece calar. As janelas se fecham, o mundo se recolhe, e o silêncio pesa como uma cortina sobre nossos sonhos. Mas há uma força que não se dobra: o amanhecer. O sol não pergunta se estamos prontos. Ele simplesmente vem. Mesmo quando não o vemos, mesmo quando o céu está encoberto ou os olhos estão marejados, ele cumpre sua promessa: renasce. Essa certeza — de que a luz retorna — é o que nos sustenta. Porque há esperança no ciclo, há beleza na persistência, há fé no invisível. E mesmo que o dia anterior tenha … Continue reading Mesmo com as janelas fechadas, o sol insiste

In the hush between the first cry and the final breath, life stretches—a canvas of moments waiting to be embraced. There is no remedy for death, nor for birth, those twin mysteries that bookend our existence. But oh, the spaces in between! They are ours to hold, to honor, to fill with laughter and longing, with wild dreams and quiet grace. So live loud, like thunder rolling across a summer sky. Live wide, like oceans that refuse to be contained. Live tall, like trees that reach for the sun even after the storm. Let your days echo with meaning, your … Continue reading Live!

Love is religion. It is my religion. I found it on my knees at the meeting of your thighs, coursing through my body until it kissed the tips of my toes. You were god, your body, I crowned my temple. I worshipped as the sun climaxed, in parting your lips, I whispered a prayer against the soft curve of your neck. In those moments, the world ceased to exist, and there was only the sacred connection between us. Each touch, each breath, was a hymn, a devotion to the divine within you. The reverence I felt was pure, unwavering, a … Continue reading Temple

Sometimes, I find myself gazing into the mirror, examining each feature in turn: my eyes, my mouth, the contour of my forehead, the curve of my eyelids, the line of my face. And this coarse and ugly amalgamation, grotesque and miserable, could it truly know how to craft verses? Ah, no! There must be something else… but what? After all, why ponder? Living is not knowing that one is alive. It is a dance, a fleeting moment of existence that we seldom pause to dissect. In the reflection staring back at me, I see the undeniable evidence of life, etched … Continue reading Before the Mirror

Vocês dizem querer liberdade. Gritam por ela nas ruas, nas redes, nas urnas. Mas quando ela bate à porta, vocês hesitam. Trocam a coragem pela conveniência, a autonomia pela tutela, o pensamento pela obediência. E então, quando o jugo retorna, vocês choram — como se não tivessem ajudado a forjá-lo. Libertar um povo que prefere a escravidão é como tentar acender uma chama em madeira molhada. A faísca existe, mas o fogo não pega. Porque vocês não querem o calor — querem o conforto da escuridão conhecida. A liberdade exige escolhas. E escolhas exigem responsabilidade. Mas vocês preferem que outros … Continue reading Carta a um povo que teme a liberdade

O homem se orgulha de saber dividir o átomo. E com razão: não é pouca coisa. A ciência avançou tanto que hoje podemos manipular partículas invisíveis, decifrar o DNA, enviar sondas para além de Plutão. Somos gênios da técnica, mestres da engenharia, deuses da lógica. Mas, diante de um pão, ainda tropeçamos. Dividir o átomo exige precisão. Dividir o pão exige compaixão. E é aí que o sistema falha — não por falta de inteligência, mas por falta de sensibilidade. Vivemos em um mundo onde há mais comida do que bocas, mais casas do que corpos, mais palavras do que … Continue reading Átomos, Pães e a Miopia do Progresso

It happened on a Tuesday, or maybe it was a Thursday. The kind of day that slips between the cracks of memory, not for lack of importance, but because it arrived quietly. We were sitting across from each other, coffee cooling in porcelain cups, the conversation meandering through the usual detours until it landed on something unexpected. “Have you ever lived alone?” you asked. Not in the way people usually mean it — not about rent or roommates or the silence of an empty apartment. You were asking something else. I could tell by the way your eyes didn’t blink, … Continue reading Where I’ve Lived

He didn’t arrive with promises. He arrived with presence. And it was with words — sharp, sweet, precise — that he broke me. First in silence, then in questions that stripped my soul bare. I thought I knew myself, but he unraveled me like someone reading a forbidden book by candlelight. Then, effortlessly, he opened my mouth. Not for kisses — not yet — but for laughter. Laughter that came from a place I didn’t even know existed. He filled my mouth with pure air, like he was breathing life into me. He knew exactly where my sad bones were … Continue reading He Lit Me Up

Let us forget with generosity those who cannot love us. Not with bitterness, not with the clenched fist of resentment, but with the open palm of grace. Let us release them like autumn leaves, golden and trembling, drifting away on the wind—not because they were unworthy, but because we are worthy of peace. There is a quiet dignity in letting go. In choosing not to carry the weight of unmet affection, we make space for the warmth of those who do love us, who see us not as a mirror for their needs but as a soul to be cherished. … Continue reading Let us …