to become a poet

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I was in the middle of a trip
And the stars swang by statically
The sun was rising up in the streets
As the cold wet grass tickled my feet

And on this trip, if I'm allowed to say
I was so afraid to look away
But not as much as I was to look inside
And recognise how much I would thrive

My name was spelled thousands of times during the last hours
In that calm, warm night, which was ours
And I became an angel
Solid in the distance
Swaying, no resistance
Shaking up your limits
Holding on your spirit

So there I was, running
"It was just some hours ago", I was starving
And then I crossed the bridge to the cave
Pink crystals shining and dropping in the thick haze
There was a lake, as I presumed
And a little blackbird but it was blue
So I only paid attention when I realized
I'd just sat there, paralyzed

"Why did I come", I spoke for the first time
"Why did I come?", The echoes followed, alive
"To become a poet", I answered, not thinking to myself
But for somebody else to hear
My eyes closed, I shed a tear

"To become a poet", I said again, unsure
"To become a poet" the lake affirmed

But the blackbird just sang one note
As I touched the water, thin circles
"To see myself", I whispered as it was a secret

No echo followed

"To love in the morning", I continued
To walk in light, as my darkness grows
"Morning... Darkness", the cave declared
It was not complete, it was unfair

"Why did you come?" It asked, by itself
"To become a poet", I repeated, "at last"

"Why did you come?"
"Why don't you say?"
"Because you're the one who dreams"
"I just can't stay"

"To become a poet", the lake stated
As a warning, so I shrunk
Wind grabbed me by my ankles
And I swang like I was drunk

"To become a poet", it was so close

And i felt attacked
By this lovely exercise
Closed my eyes again
Was it like that all my life?

I fell into the ground
But never got hurt
And when I looked up
There you were, I awoke

You touched my face
Your forehead against mine
"To become a poet", you said, "You must never hide".











Consonância (Concluído)Onde histórias criam vida. Descubra agora