Well, I figured I’d simply open the doors, let this paper be colored with truth and smiles. We can’t be afraid of living, nor can we be afraid of doing what makes us feel amazing, and I can tell you right now that the feeling I get when I write all these words is magnificent, and when I analyze it, I come to the conclusion that it is so because I get to relive the moments I shared with you.

Because it wasn’t just a mere holding hands or ordinary gazes every now and then; it wasn’t just intense kissing or holding each other with affection. It was all a trigger for the body chemistry, it was the making of pillars to lean on mid day, when things are harsh and the occasionalities are trying to shrink you, or in the middle of the night, when the silence is way too loud for a passionate soul to put up with.

Don’t get me wrong, we all have our sadnesses inside, our doubts and fears, and we deal with them on a daily basis. But it’s that light on the way that just appears every now and then that makes us keep going; that makes us breathe and smile with certainty, ready for the next challenge. And that is, at least, what happened when I held you close, feeling you, and it’s what’s happening to me right now.

I’ll remember the sight of your unique eyes – the eyes I remember by heart, each color and trace – and I’ll just realize that, whenever I lay by your side, holding you, we’re close enough for the body harmony to become something trivial, both hearts understanding each other, communicating with their sounds and pauses, and their different intensities being like keys that open the door to a plan that is simply not intelligible to our conscious self, but only to our core, which only shows itself when our chest is full, our eyes are closed and our heart is about to burst. And, just so you know, I’ve been face to face with my core when I was with you.

I haven’t looked inside your eyes long enough to know if my words make you smile, nor have I had time enough to know what afflicts you or pleases you, but I know that holding in thoughts and words is just not worth it. By opening myself up like this, I did good to a person that smiles when sees you smiling: myself.

Walking on the beach is one of my favorite activities. I try to do it often, for it, somehow, heals me. And one of these days, walking down the sand, enjoying the sun, I stumbled upon a glass bottle with a piece of paper inside of it. I uncorked it. It had a not so old piece of paper with some writings on it. 

~

“Down in a hole” would never come close to how I’m feeling right now. The sudden loss of light on the inside could be a more accurate way to describe it, as I feel like I’m shrinking, my outside giving in to the void inside, like a vacuum bomb sucking its surroundings and turning it into a compact piece of existence that has no influence whatsoever on its own surroundings. All of the desires to influence someone in a positive, loving way, fade to dust, and so do all of your will as you’re ran over by the infamous, merciless, freight train of life.

Walking around, invisible, realizing that even the mold has some utility, and that even waste can produce something, could be, maybe, an exaggerated way of looking at this situation, but when you dive deep within your own soul, you realize how fucked up your own self is, not for what you in fact are, but for what you’re feeling like. You realize you’re feeling like a fading figure, a person that is, with a peristaltic movement, digging its own hole to hide in. 

To hide from what? 

From everything. The simple idea of picturing a future kills you when you have no strength, and specially when you feel so down that you also feel dependent, and even more when you reach out to the people you think so deeply of, but they are either far, busy, or have moved on. That is the end of the line, the part when you simply lay down in bed and stay there until someone tries to take you out of there with a speech of strength, but also showing you that they too are going through something like that, with tears rolling down their faces, smiling just to cover their own disgraces. And you feel them – and you feel like them. Because you don’t just show it to anyone. In fact, you don’t show it to anyone, you keep it to yourself, just to spare people’s time and patience. After all, they won’t be able to help you, especially being so far away like most of them are. 

The day starts like that, it passes by like that, and like that it ends, the seconds turning to minutes, and the minutes turning to hours. You count them like you would count the sand grains of a desert: with no rush at all. Why, you ask me. Because nothing matters when your inside is pitch black.
~ 

I folded the paper, grabbed a lighter and burned it, hoping to, somehow, erase all that from that person’s life, and to give some light to that person’s interior.

~
Be a wolf and a mountain altogether.
Rafael Mendes da Silva

–

How can a landscape change so quickly like it did?

At first, what I see in the horizon is a clear sky – untouched canvas – over solacing woods that hold nothing but the unknown. By the woods’ feet, a clear lake, still as it can be, bringing freshness and relief to the surroundings, surrounded by people, joy on their faces, a happy life drawn. I get to touch the water and feel how soothing it is to be there, by myself – not alone, but by myself – trying what life chose to give me, not even imagining what she was holding for my eyes and my heart. Obliviousness was a positive thing, this time. 
So, being there, I sat by the shore and kept on admiring, letting thoughts flow, embracing every detail in front of me. Everything was so quiet, so still, that I could hear my clock ticking; it was the sound of time, marching on, magically changing that scenario in front of me, detail by detail.

I stopped a bit to look around, and two things held my attention, one at a time. The first one was a mysterious, yet wonderful Stonetower not far on the right. Four stories, well-built, attention catching. There was something about it that made me smile and feel a rush in my chest.

The second thing was the fact that I was, suddenly, alone. I looked all around, but couldn’t find a single person. Then I looked ahead again, to take one more glimpse.

To my surprise, the view had changed. Golden light started shining in the horizon, strong as it were gentle, coloring the whole scenario. A couple of moments later, beautiful clouds joined that magic and added beauty to the canvas. I could only feel how much my eyes felt blessed to be witnessing the arrival of all that beauty to my horizon. The way the golden light painted the sky in the clouds, creating multiple shades and new colors I didn’t even know existed, gently coloring my skin as it grew stronger, spilling it’s magic on that wide, ample river that now, somehow, was showing excitement over the gathering of these two: the golden sky and me. 

I felt like that beautiful canvas was now so close to me that I could even touch it if I wanted.

As I reached for it, my feet left the ground: I was floating in the air, across the pond, admiring, as I ascended, how beautiful that work of art looked reflected on the water, its features dancing as the tiny agitations created by geese here and there advanced.
The air, I could tell, was purer up there, and it got purer as I ascended towards the most beautiful painting that was that wonder.

That was a moment suspended in time. All the inspiration hit me like cold rain, activating my inner self, bringing out the part of me I love the most, exactly because it is capable, more than anything, of giving back with warmness all the passion that it receives. It makes me look way beyond appearance, beyond words pronounced, beyond smiles and kisses, scents and touch. It drags me all the way to the core, where ideas and personality reside, and past the door of the mind, where the true element of connection dwells; the one no one was able to name, but only feel.

I feel that inspiration that makes the pen dance on white pages, drawing with words the indescribable spectacle of the images, I now see, it creates inside of me.

This is art as you are art, either tonight, in the morning or in the afternoon.

I finally touch the sky, and I feel like I’m a true part of it, as it is a part of me; the part that puts an everlasting smile to my face and soul.

It all seems unreal, but it’s not. Therefore, it is impossible for you to be unreal, for I feel you so intensely that nothing but the truth could emerge from this canvas. 

–

By Rafael Mendes

Who are you? From where did your eyes emerge in the night, along with your perfume, which takes my concentration, and your skin, which makes pupils dilate and my lungs fill up? The cold night takes on a whole new meaning when I get my body closer to yours and enter the woods, swimming through this shy mist and facing the unknown ahead. I can feel the silence like never before, but when your voice sounds and echoes through the trees, softly as your skin, I become aware. I’m here, and from all the places where I could be, I’m exactly where I should be. I want to uncover the unknown and feel what I still haven’t felt. When I do it, I either step back or get infatuated. And well, here I am, witnessing the transformation of the unknown into something I now want, and exploring so interestedly each and every door that you open for me.

Under the moonlight, I’m sure that you’re real and I learn the influence you have on me, for my body denounces me and turns me in with my hard breathing, growing heat, and heart strong as drums; it’s all noticeable. I couldn’t hide it even if I tried, and I won’t: You shouldn’t stop a river. A river is to run free. 

Feel me caressing you; sense my presence, my warmth and solace. Hear the soft sound of the wind as we exchange glances in the dark and as the leaves play on the ground… Time stood still when we held each other, and no clock dared to tick when my fingers touched your skin to feel the warmness of plenitude. There is a deep silence reigning tonight, and it echoes colorfully inside of me; it all happens as each particle of my body gets ready to shout in joy, though. It’s not been very long, I know, but I already miss you when you’re gone, and I feel bursts of happiness when I spot you on the horizon, coming towards me; it’s like we curiously have known each other for a long time. Each and every single one of these thoughts that constitute a paradoxically calm storm in my mind cease to exist in the blink of an eye when my lips so subtly touch yours; it’s the sempiternal within a second, it’s tounching the sky for a fraction of a second. “I smell like you, now, and you smell like me”. The scent is stimulant, the taste is better than anything nature can provide or man can create. There is no substance that can outstand this or this moment. And I don’t want to let you go.

I blink my eye, and it’s time to say farewell. Time stopping took its toll in the end, as a long period of time suddenly passed by in an instant. My heart is trying to reach out for you, now, hectic as waves in the open sea – wild, brave – wishing with all its strength to be the holder of my motor activities, trying desperately to make me hold your hand and keep you close. It even hurts when we kiss farewell and I have to take my eyes off yours. 
There is no point in trying to think of something else tonight, as my whole being is still trying to breathe you in, living out of the fresh memories my brain has just recorded, surviving on the scent left on me and my clothes.  

As I lay down, I wonder what’s on your mind, and I wish I’m in your head as intensily as you’re in mine. The only thing I can feel before falling asleep is your presence, you laying your head on my chest, taking a long, deep breath, and fading into sweet dreams with me. 
–
 Written by Rafael Mendes.

Darling, darling, darling… You’ve put a spell on me, a good one. I’m daydreaming when you’re far away, and collecting memories and sweet moments when you’re by my side; they’re all inspirations for all my thoughts and dreams.

Kicking the ashes aside, let’s smile together while holding hands, laugh of every joke, cry for every sad movie and cheer the joy of feeling each other so deeply. Yes, I’m awake, I’m all about that strong fire, the reddest fire, the best fire, the one that has many names.

I wanna take you to the other side of the mountain, where the bluest lake awaits and the bonfire we’ll light together lies. It’s a place made for us and all of our desires. Pick ‘em all, make a list, let’s tick that whole list until we need to make another one. Feel my hands as they put you to sleep under that smooth massage I’ll practice on you everyday for the sake of making it perfect… for you. It’ll be as sweet as chocolate! And every night we can have the best pizzas, the finest wine and all the Lindt Switzerland can make.

Wait, hold that smile. I want to make it eternal in my mind. That’s a picture I’m gonna take everywhere. I can’t bear to go out there with nothing in my head but the everyday happenings; I need you in my mind to make it through this stormy world, and I know you’re gonna be my shield.

Remember me when you close your eyes at night, let’s meet in our dreams. I’m gonna be waiting by your constellation.

Orion Nebula

Se acordo de um estado de inatividade e me vejo em um local vazio, volto ao meu interior e ali permaneço, estável, sereno, impassível, até que, novamente, algum sino toque ao longe, me chamando, mostrando o caminho do fogo.

A noite é cheia de sinos que tocam ao longe, e este que me fez despertar teve uma melodia memorável, apetecedora, a qual me fez olhar para o horizonte com desejo irrefreável, como se minha alma tivesse fome daquilo, pois era aquela uma melodia que, lembro eu, ouvi em algum momento de minha vida, longos tempos atrás. A melodia ecoou em mim, e conseguiu acariciar cada sensível parte do meu âmago. Seria erro meu perseguir a fonte disso tudo com determinação irrefreável?

Não tardei a me deleitar com a visão daquele encanto perene. A felicidade naqueles olhos me hipnotizava, e eu venturosamente seguia. O aroma que se afixou em mim me fez levitar, e durante o instante de um piscar de olhos, toquei o céu, me senti parte de Orion e voltei. Sei que voltei apenas para novamente apreciar aquela imensa inspiração, tendo em vista que ela era a única fonte de adrenalina de toda a terra ao meu alcance.

Sinto, porém, que minhas tentativas de descreve-la e de descrever minha experiência se frustram diante da maravilhosa e praticamente indescritível realidade. Em meus olhos fica, ainda, a imensidão de sentimentos meritória de campos e mais campos de flores, de forma que, se me observo como expectador, vejo um rapaz hipnotizado pelo nada, navegando em seus pensamentos, detentor de olhos estáticos e brilhosos. Se alguma de minhas tentativas de traduzir isso tudo para letras e palavras fosse bem sucedida, teria em mãos meu eterno passaporte para aquele momento que, embora inesquecível, é também merecedor de seu espaço físico em papel, pois não deve ser perdido.

Fico preso em um questionamento: como seus olhos podem ser tudo isso? A simples visão deles, em meio à noite, é luz para meu interior. Tocar seu rosto e te apreciar é memorável. E é tudo tão natural para você. É natural para você como é, para mim, ver diamantes surgindo do ar. Essa naturalidade me captura, me mostra novos mundos em um tocar de lábios, traz noites passionais e manhãs de romance. Noites cheias de pensamentos e ações tão fortemente dotadas de paixão que tudo o que consegui sonhar durante toda a noite foi com você. Poucos jamais entenderão isto.

Começo agora a compreender sua raridade. Você esconde inestimáveis tesouros por trás dos seus numes olhos. É quase como se qualquer um pudesse passar por você sem perceber, por não ser digno disso. E nisso reside uma de minhas maiores felicidades: poder provar e viver isso. Felicidade maior seria poder te mostrar toda a sua preciosidade e te convencer de sua imparidade. Acredite em mim, você é luz na escuridão.

levstas

De uma maneira tão sutil você apareceu. Seus olhos brilhando sobre mim e seu jeito doce, ingênuo, de falar sendo como um gancho para a minha vontade. Você fez o relógio parar quando ele tinha que parar, e também fez o tempo voar quando ele precisava. Tal poder não pode ser ignorado, pelo menos não por mim. E então eu não ignorei. Decidi fazer meus olhos te verem mais frequentemente e também de forma mais intensa. Te tornaste o centro dos meus pensamentos, a razão pela qual eu escrevo; e quando meus dedos correm pelas teclas como se tivessem vida própria, sei que algo está muito certo.

You see, it’s not easy to stay the course and to remain bold when all you have ahead is pitch black sight. It’s like you’re moving towards nothing and reaching nowhere. But that’s exactly when you need to hold onto faith and believe that you’re on the right track. Voices may echo inside your head with words of disbelief, hate and anger, but you’ll have to learn how to shut them down. It’s not easy, I know it damn well, and the pain may be greater than you thought, but I can guarantee: it is worth it.

How do I know it? Well, I simply do. No, I haven’t reached my own tiny grain of beauty, but I know that each step brings me closer to it, and I don’t care how many steps I need to make it, or how many oceans I have to get around or even cross. The only thing I know is that it will all make sense in the end. Per aspera ad astra, and the hardest the path, the more beautiful and valuable the prize.

Na escuridão total do quarto, a única luz é a do céu noturno, tão carregado de relâmpagos. Um, dois, três, quatro… Alguns segundos depois, vem o trovão, e é como se todos os sentidos fossem ativados de uma vez só, criando a bela ilusão de lábios que se tocam, sabe-se lá por quê.

A melodia da música guia e dá ritmo à noite, as teclas do piano se misturam com as gotas, as letras surgem em suas mãos enquanto as palavras nascem, dando vida a frases que traduzem o sentimento que tanto emana de seu coração para voar por aí, tocar um outro coração… “O” coração, diga-se de passagem; este que, apontado pela Lua como o coração dos corações, é suave como seda flutuando pelo céu, e te abraça como tal, fazendo-te flutuar sobre mares e montanhas frias, mas sempre com o acalento do amor.

Depois de tanto divagar, os ouvidos mais uma vez se aguçam para a melodiosa combinação do maravilhoso som da chuva e de um ocasional – e sempre presente – Desplat.

A cada relâmpago, a cama toda se acendia, e durante estes momentos, flashes de um corpo cor de pérola se apresentavam diante dos olhos curiosos e sedentos deste homem. Em um segundo, lá estava; no outro, escuridão. Passava as mãos pelo breu para se certificar de sua sanidade, mas mesmo duvidando de si mesmo – apesar de possuir uma faísca de certeza -, esperava o próximo relâmpago, e quando ele acontecia, via ali os fios brilhantes de cabelo refletindo a luz dos céus como um espelho perfeito, e sob eles, a luz sedutora de olhos que lhe laçavam a alma e a traziam até a boca, que é o precipício do corpo do homem.

Levou a mão até ela, mas não foi rápido o bastante, e acariciou apenas o frio da noite.
Desta vez, se preparou, pronto para investir ao menor sinal de luz.

Na expectativa, o som da chuva se acentuava, e a descida de sua rua complementava os espaços vazios de som com seu escorrer de água.

Piscou, e quando abriu o olho, lá estava ela, a pele quase transparente reluzindo, a boca cerrada e a expressão serena, mas totalmente focada nele, com ar de quem quer ser pego, mas de quem não vai ceder ao primeiro toque.

Suas mãos tentam alcançá-la, e desta vez ele a toca, sentindo sob a ponta de seus dedos toda a riqueza do Sol e da Lua unidos, a união entre o frio e o quente, o claro e o escuro.

Puxa-a para si e a beija, entrelaça os braços na cintura mais abraçável que já viu, transcende.

A chuva somente parou pela manhã, depois que toda a sede de amor – aquela que se assemelha à do andarilho do deserto – tinha sido dizimada.

Não é possível prever como serão as noites que se sucedem, pois são como tempestade, e cada uma delas tem intensidade diferente – são ora calmas, ora agitadas, ora suavemente confortantes, ora repletas de vis dores.

De qualquer forma, a cada vez que me deito, sinto nada menos do que uma intensa curiosidade. Não sei, afinal, o que há por vir, nem que situação encontrarei, quem reencontrarei ou quem conhecerei. Sei, porém que há uma figura que constantemente decide se fazer presente em meio às nebulosas imagens dos sonhos, seja como protagonista, seja como coadjuvante, ou até mesmo figurante. Para falar a verdade, até mesmo durmo com um bloco de notas ao meu lado, o qual já está pronto para receber meu relato; é meu confidente, aquele que fica sabendo em primeira mão qual foi o papel desempenhado pela tal figura, desta vez.

Troquei os seriados e os filmes da noite pelo meu próprio show, este que é particular e que acontece no palco de minha alma, alimentado por cada uma das batidas do meu coração e regido por dois: minha mente e o universo. Esse último com certeza observa atentamente cada peça apresentada em meus sonhos e, aposto, toma também suas notas, aproveita de sua condição de onisciência e puxa setas de suas anotações para adendos referentes aos meus sentimentos e à forma como reajo, mesmo dormindo, aos estímulos enviados por ele. Está, certamente, me testando, fazendo seus experimentos.

Curiosamente, eu não só deixo como aproveito, pois tomo isso tudo como dádiva divina. Como eu poderia ignorar a sutil maneira com a qual aquela figura apareceu ali, em nuvens – verdadeiras nuvens – para me dizer, de forma tão doce e inocente, e com olhos tão brilhantes, todas as palavras que foram como anzol para a minha vontade? É impossível – mesmo que eu quisesse – ignorar o poder que foi exercido sobre mim, o de parar o relógio quando ele tinha que ser parado, e o de acelerá-lo quando eu precisava. Eu, pelo menos, não posso ignorar – e não ignorei. Decidi fazer minha mente recebe-la mais vezes, e cada vez de forma mais intensa.

O resultado veio após algumas noites, quando a figura que antes aparecia como meteoritos no céu se tornou mais do que uma estrela, mais do que a própria Lua; se tornou o próprio céu.

Acordo suavemente de um sonho, e torno-te a razão pela qual escrevo este texto. Sei que quando meus dedos ganham vida e patinam pelo teclado para constituir algo assim, há algo extremamente certo.

#levstas