quinta-feira, 30 de maio de 2013

Escuridão

Anoitecer em Búzios, 2007.

                                 Escuridão


                                                    Há certa beleza
                                                    na escuridão.
                                                    A vista sem visão
                                                    apura a audição.

                                                    A perspectiva se desloca
                                                    da linha do horizonte
                                                    para o ponto
                                                    do som reverberante.

                                                    Os sons do mato
                                                    evocam a vida,
                                                    que fervilha,
                                                    da luz protegida.

                                                    Mas a ausência
                                                    de imagens nítidas,
                                                    desperta angústia,
                                                    causa fobia.

                                                    O vento incessante,
                                                    nas frestas das janelas,
                                                    produz um canto uivante
                                                    que afasta as querelas.

                                                    Mas também revive
                                                    lembranças inquietantes
                                                    de noites sem sono
                                                    e dias estressantes.

                                                    O riacho entre as pedras
                                                    com seu som borbulhante
                                                    nos traz grande alegria
                                                    como um bom espumante.

                                                    E nos lembra que a vida
                                                    são águas passadas,
                                                    entre corredeiras, remansos
                                                    e pedras roladas

                                                                              RJ, nov/2012.