Tecelã de Sonhos - Poesia D'água

But Isn't it Holy?

I. first version

remember that day
in july, when winter had already begun
the mist wrapped the trees in white
and the sun didn't bother to come out
i said "look at flowers!
there's frost on their fragile petals" - the dew had become ice,
yet it shone as if bathed
directly on liquid light.

isn't a winter day, filled with winter blessings,
the purest form of holiness?
that day seemed as a ghost - mostly white and eerie,
forgotten among other times.
but in a way, still present,
at least for me - i still keep those frosty petals, dearly on my heart.

there's a veil between me and the world,
but i'm still not lonely
i may one day be - when the longing nights turn to golden
when the vernal winds become warmer,
but i'll still have my pen and paper
so night and winter, will always be
with me.

and isn't it holy, too
to dedicate yourself
and worship what is most dear to you?
i certainly feel as a servant close to a god i can almost touch.
to feel loved and love so intensely
you have to write, and write endlessly,
perhaps about the same thing, over and over.

it is a hymn as much as it is an obsession
- but isn't it holy?