sexta-feira, 25 de setembro de 2009

“ Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,
Tears from the depth of some divine despair
Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes,
In looking on the happy autumn-fields,
And thinking of the days that are no more.


So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.”

Lord Alfred Tennyson


It was sunny that afternoon, that late afternoon, while I lied in my couch in contemplative mood. Resting my head at the pillow, I stood glancing at the golden solar sphere, the raving clouds, the enduring mountains. I glanced, but with indifferent sight, as my mind strayed through uncertain realms of remembrance, thinking on things already past, ignoring everything yet to come. They were all pictures, my memories, nothing more than frozen scenes enshrined by a foggy frame of oblivion, and as I summoned memories of my early childhood, this blurry fog was still more present, as if trying to erase those scenes from me. Afternoons such as bright as this, joyful moods, smiles, that’s what I saw on the pictures, and streets bathed by warm sunbeams. Although distant, my childhood was the period I remembered the most. As I grew older I got every time more distracted, there was no present for me, neither past nor future, the abstraction of time presented itself to me in its whole form and my mind chosen many times to dwell in those immutable thoughts, enduring thoughts, such as the old mountains I observed. I remembered birthday parties, the travels, the good times with friends. I remembered my grandmother’s death, my mother crying while I held my tears, I remember the sudden indifference, the late woe, the grief of mourning. The late woe, now everlasting…

It was a burden, my past, it was a burden and started to suffocate me, to compress me against the very couch on which I lied. I was tired of carrying it. Suddenly I got struck by a strange exhaustion, and closed my eyes. For an uncertain period of time I stood in limbo, not sleeping nor awake, I would sometimes open my eyes unconsciously, incapable of thinking, and when my eyes were closed I had no dreams but a darkening slumberous visage, and darkness itself took control of my mind while I could do nothing but surrender to it. Darkness, abyssal and utter darkness, floated aloft my unconsciousness as the blackened clouds of fate which float upon every being, I was able to feel, while fainted and possessed by blank mirages, I was able to feel my destiny. Dissolved, reduced to dust of existence, I was carried by the Mystery through its unspoken words. So sad, so fresh, I knew not what they meant.

I finally woke up. The golden sun turned to opaque yellow, I was now caressed by a soft sorrow, unknown and unfelt before. While glancing at the sun once again I knew, I knew it was the pain from a dying season, I felt it all around me. The great star started to set behind those mountains, screaming in silence, suffering in silent resignation. As I do. From the east, a crow uttered its distant cry, and from that same direction I was able to sense the rain. Autumn approaches once more, to remind us of the cold, to drown the summer in tears, idle tears, for the days that are no more. So sad, so fresh…

Um comentário:

  1. Algo que escrevi, provavelmente inacabado, mas não quero mais trabalhar nele por enquanto. Ainda assim, espero que gostem.

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