Tale of Sword

To endure and persevere, reaching out and keeping on in living.

That is exceedingly outnumbering if compared to one's thoughts and concepts regarding the mysterious and scornful laughter which shines even now, which shone ad eternum into our past, and so in any and all futures for men to see.

A tale is born from each and every one possible being that ever came to this which we call "life". From this fale there is so simply much to fulfill and to happen from so much sides that there is absolute futility in the attempt to dominate such miracle in any way at all and in none whatsoever, if I were to recreate such in trying to speak about it even at this very moment where your eyes meet my now-present and at the same time, now-past words.

I wonder if we can one day reunite with this mystery, all togheter, alltogheter. This constant bondary between what we call one side and the other which encloses our heartbeats to this worlds - so many of them - made out of the purest of stars and of all of the colours and shining lights that ever danced at all.

But even now, when I am percieving my prision in this "world" we call 'ourselves', I see that the origninal piece of art that is everything becomes visible by anyone when the boundaries are cast-off into the road we had already gone through.

It is so beautiful and so chained along, this process of blooming is truly sacred amongst all and all unities! Even if you're at your own run, and you're still striding to reach only a small portion, you see so many walkers in so many ways, that this very world guides your path along with it's own! As you see bondaries being cast into the already gone through road, you see the little bits of this absolute and every-time-different-yet-familiar truth roaming through the flux, through the course of anything! And they walk amongside you for who knows how long!

This world is so amazing that no matter how much you are on your own, and in your own walk through this life you are in right now, all the other runners are there with you, in their parallel lines of existence! Even if you try to stand still and watch everyone go by, their boundaries are much and just as visible by themselves as they dash through, as you yourself, when they are reflected upon your own.

You can go through any boundary in your life, in so many ways! In reading a story there is even that much.

I just realized I had ran through a gigantic road in so many magical years - in uncountable snses of the phrase - that it made me actually go through all of that distance, in actually realizing it.

Let's walk togheter sometime! I'll be waiting for all of you while I'm at this stroll of mine!


Until then!!

Kinesis

A movement is such word. Amongst the synthetic will embodied within our humanized and struggled upon text, that is.

To synthesize - or to merge togheter - the feelings and mysteries, in the myriad sense of this term, that overwhelm us, and envelops and overlaps each aspect of our lives, as much as the sense of bore, routine, tire and sick repeated slides may force us to merge otherwise. That I call as for now "movement". That is what my feelings paint in the canvas of my conscience as I type these brim-filled words.

As much as you see your own daily life, you see movement therein. There is the world itself moving, and then there is you, moving inside it, as much as vice-versa.

Where and when World's movement and yours enjoy a syncrony and satisfying harmony, you'll enjoy it as well. As much as the discrepancy and dissonance of yours and the World's movement share, be sure to endure as much pain and discomfort as your future may have to spare - or as much time as you'll take to take another turn and drive your flux of movement anew, if you can.

Whenever there is an empty space within me, I see now as a part of me that does not move as the World is moving. I have realized that I must move it myself in order to ride again in this fine World and enjoy the roadtrip of this objectivized, subjective reality.

Are you moving?

AMOR AH O AMOR

Engraçado como as pessoas confundem amor com formas de prazer e como uma hora ou outra começam a procurar isso nessas ações, situações e circunstâncias.

Amor é algo incrivelmente espontâneo. Não dá pra planejar isso indo em algum ambiente que diz nas linhas implícitas que você vai se encontrar com alguém que vai te provocar amor.

Porras, é o raio da música que tocou no shopping quando você saiu 

das lojas americanas com as compras chatas pra caralho.
É o olhar do seu cachorro quando ele tá naquela pose engraçada que ele nunca vai ficar de novo e você só conseguiu ver isso porque tava de cabeça pra baixo debruçado pra fora do sofá.
É o momento em que você esqueceu quem e o que você era durante aquela sensação inominável que está sempre onde você não consegue prestar atenção.
É exatamente a mesma espontaneidade e natureza do ódio que permeia aquilo que mais meche com o seu cerne e te dá anos a fio de juramento odioso com essa merda. Isto é o que é amor de verdade.

Heir to the Realm of Salvation

This horizon,

after so many days watching it,

I feel more like it, less like what would bring despair unto my existence.

It's not like I understand it, and not like my thoughts traced a decisive line, between concepts and points of view, in order to achieve this conclusion that is the pleasure I feel deep down within me.

The sense of immortality through the chances we give ourselves again when we have failed,
The comforting warmth of our gazing spears that bear title against the tides of misery and obsession born from our fears and from dreams we don't believe to one day achieve after having already taken the path towards them.
The blowing wind inside our veins, that caresses our skin to our very bones day by day as we walk in our daily workings.
The loving shine from our hearts that makes this world - existing.

Great tales unfold from this reality, and unfathomable angels dance between the steps taken by me.

I'm so glad for my past. I hope everybody reaches this point in life, seriously!

I'm waiting for you all, so don't keep me on this same point forever!

Lucas Vencovsky Nogueira

To become Nothing

To be nothing is to be complete; *When doing nothing is achieved, nothing remains undone. (Tao te Ching)

To become nothing is to embrace everything.

To become nothing is to find and accept enlightment;

It is to accept and find true peace and harmony with everything and anything.

To become nothing is to let go of all of your possessions and desires;

It is to let yourself die, as all and everything that you ever came to know;

It is to let go of every suffering and every pleasure;

It is to surrender your suffering and the joy it had been paid for to each and every passing present;

It is to suffer the ultimate death, and to achieve the ultimate serenity.

It has no peace, for it is not disturbable;

It has no ending, because its beggining is unprecedented.

To become nothing is to find that which was never there, and to pulse it within your own being without sense or reason of folly and purpose as the moving and trapped world is constantly called to, answering to it just as naturally as the wind blows.

To achieve peace is to suffer eternally within a fraction of seconds; It is to die within a moment within a moment within a moment within a moment; Just as the next would come, and your past world would be just as past as the very word.

It is to achieve peace in every aspect, that which we call suffering; Its hollowness consumes us for what we are, leaving only what does not end unless the world tries to avoid within yourself and through each and every day of your life.

That which dies endlessly, we drammatically and blindedly call ourselves.

That which takes away and kills what shall die, fade and yeld, is what we live for;

It is what we live in;
It is what we fight for; It is what we can try to fight against. Our victories and defeats depend ultimately on this world and this reality.

That which remains, which is it? The vision of death as we ourselves as all we ever came to be fades away irremediably? Or is it the part of ourselves that we couldn't see with all of our past world to entretain and shackle us?

That which defies hollowness itself.

That which has no name, for it is beyond our fate.

That of us which remains after everything else has died and rottened away,

Must we strive for it? Must we live this life we have to the last drop with all the joy we can afford?

I hope these words make me feel better, and I hope they are of use to anyone who comes toward them.