I guess you all know we are in the Summer here. Thus, it is a bit nonsense for me to decorate my site with snow, fireplaces, etc- although I wish it were not that hot in here.. Anyway, I´m traveling to the state of Minas, to a city called Varginha. I´ll spend Christmas there at a farm, with people I love.

I came to wish you all a very happy Christmas! I do  hope that God is not only present in your lives, but in your hearts as well.

                                   
I wish you all peace, and in case I don´t return before the 31st, I also wish you a very nice year!!!

May God be with you all!! Blessings

Love,

Shy

 
Test poem
I am not normally a big fan of blog poetry. A lot of it tends to be self-indulgent and whiny. I’m not saying that self-indulgent and whiny poetry can’t be good or shouldn’t be written; it’s just that it tends not to be my favourite stuff. Hence, the comment that I’m not a fan of it. Heck, I’m not even a fan of most of my own self-indulgent and whiny poems. Anyway, my point here is that since signing up on GudKarma I’ve been flirting with the idea of posting a few of my poems there. So I’m just going to post a poem here and see how that makes me feel. In all honesty, I’m not sure why this is such a dilemma for me… I mean, what do I really have to lose? Either people will see it and hate it, or they’ll see it and like it, or they won’t see it at all. Anyway, poem…

************************************************
the world holds its breath
for a day and never quite remembers
how to breathe deeply again

I fill my lungs
with heavy air
feel the stretch and flux
of intercostals muscles
am silent stony small
as weight fills out my skin
solidifies

the world exhales
from the top of its lungs
inhales yesterday
stale air collects near its diaphragm
pinches alveoli
into forced shallower breaths

eyelids do not believe
in vigilance
they fall together
in ever-lengthening blinks
inevitable relaxation
to un-imaged dreams

I will breathe deeply
and I will sleep

~Shy~

“And if you reach for me. I may not choose to hold your hand. I might smile, or I might turn away.” ~ Quidam from Cirque du Soleil

There have always been two static things in my life, rising above my capricious tendencies, abetting to my every excursion. Namely, when cowardice claims my thoughts, I flee. I escape into words, and I abscond to the even less fathomable, but perhaps more beautiful… Music. Always have I loved music. I remember being eight-years-old, turning off all the lights, turning up the stereo and staring at the lit buttons until they blurred onto the fringe between reality and illusion. The darkness swallowed me as music stole me away as their hostage. That feeling…that grand feeling of being elsewhere, in a world full of lilt notes. Where it is one minute surreal, the next jaunty…but always, always so intangibly beautiful. Gods…sometimes I think that’s all I need in this life. It is all I need. A pen and music. It feels like they are drawing swivels all around me. Music writes, just as words composes…it’s so beautiful, so beautiful…just so beautiful to the point where I’m without words. How I long to be able to yield an instrument at my own will. To be able to contrive music notes and make them sing, dance, write. To float in perpetual space, dreaming away the baggage in life… Everything tastes so sweet here, like sugar coated deception climbing onto my tongue. I could taste the rhythm as the melody pulsate…sometimes it tastes like tears though, salted tears…but I will still be there, emotions spoon fed to me. I don’t want to think anymore. I don’t want to make sense of things anymore. I want to keep the same oblivious smile I had before, the times when I dreamt of flying than my arms slit and bleeding. Take me away. I believe in you. Only you can heal me.