Pietà
I saw signs and prodigies,
I saw them while I was moving along without walking.
Restricted illnesses
my secrets in white scriptures.
Restricted, I stayed
when I first felt the ground.
And the cycle started, once again
everything in me has restarted.
Illusory moths in my eyes,
why do I care to see?
Only oceans of black verses.
Among me and the features of many others,
sculpted and blown away,
in the transitory clouds above the sky,
I’ve been looking for the childhood’s streets,
I heard with attention to the unknown noises.
I studied everything but nothing could learn.
And was it all that remained?
Is that all that remain?
Is that all?
A beginning, middle and end
that leaves everything at the middle of the road,
without mercy of the dignity,
with no pity of the end.
Have mercy!
Have, please,
Mercy of the end.
Moisés Bentes
