quinta-feira, maio 08, 2014

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I always end up here. 
Encompassed by this feeling of smallness, when I face the great will of humans trying to understand their place in this world. The world, the earth, that as it is seen from above makes every problem null, every pain, every sorrow, but does not erase them, nor replaces them with a calm or ease. Instead it replaces the questions, and questions any kind of faith. Fate.
Along the golden carved flowers and angels a constant pain bleeds out of our eyes. We look above and down again and do not perceive the metrics of our existence. We look up at the everyday sacrificed martyrs, we whisper words of tears behind mirrored glasses, we build our strength from weakness and yet we do not allow the weak to be strong. 
We fail again looking at ourselves from the outside.  We try to fail better by trying not to fail again. I do not intend to be the judge of myself but, I will practice that sense of justice as I fail again. 
As I fail to these words. 
As I fail my friends and family. 
As they will fail me as a symbol of their respect and dedication. 
We struggle our way through love and portray it in the most admirable works and actions. 
For there is no greater work than being and building ourselves from loving another.

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