O Milagre de Bakhita

O Milagre de Bakhita

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WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing<5 mins
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Tue, Mar 13, 2018
POSTAGEM EM BREVE Duas estradas divergiam numa árvore amarela // E me ressenti não poder ambas percorrer // Sendo um só viajante, por muito me detive // E observei uma até quão longe pude // Só para observar que na relva desaparecia // Então segui pela outra, tão boa quanto // E talvez por ter melhor reclame // Mais ramos possuía e talvez por ansiar uso embora, quanto a isso, o caminhar, no fim, as tivesse marcado por igual // E, naquela manhã, em ambas igualmente jaziam folhas que passo algum pisara //Ó deixei a primeira para outro dia! // E sabendo que um caminho leva a outro caminho // Duvidei se algum dia eu voltaria //Isto eu hei de contar mais tarde, num suspiro // Em algum ponto, eras e eras ainda nesta existência // Duas estradas bifurcavam numa árvore // Eu trilhei a menos percorrida // E isto fez toda a diferença. Poema de Robert Frost (1874 - 1963), no original The Road not Taken (A estrada não trilhada)
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Through thick and thin the Law shall prevail. A new sense of purpose awaits us, children of light, in the land where it all began. The darkness in which we once cowered in fear, now curbed by the might of our endless light. Come, brothers, come, sisters. Let there be peace among the wicked, just as the Law dictates. Peace and certainty is all that you have ever longed for, little angel. A bright, stable future. A roof without holes above thy head. Acknowledgement and recognition of thy existence, feverish dreams of grandeur. Greed born from yearning, treacherous vines of rapacity taint your innocent soul. You seek a future that does not exist. Let thy fingers hold the fragile line between dream and nightmare. Let thy light navigate the path. Shall thee give in and falter, O' land of old, envelop his body in thy unending flame of chaos. Spit out nothing but an empty husk, the remnants of a smile once so bright. Shall thee prevail, O', Great Kazdel, I ask of you, the impossible - take mercy on the innocent. Don't let the radiance dim and don't let the mind turn bleak. Wake, young traveler. Bid thy farewells and burn thy bridges. It's time to say goodbye, curly head. Cross post from AO3. For a shorter and more on-point description, look no further! I had something silly written up before throwing it out in exchange for that wall of text upstairs. It's a little story "about a young, dumb sankta who's been dealt a bad hand at life, looking for his place in all this mess. The pointless search for a better future leads him far, far away from home, to a country forever ravaged by war and misery - Kazdel, the promised land where devils roam free and peace feels out of place." Anyway, it's quite lengthy, but hopefully enjoyable? Slide a comment if you want, I'll give you a tiny kiss on the forehead. Man, do I love comments. (Lastly, to point out, English is not my native language, but I don't think it'll be much of an issue ;3)

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