For white dwarfs
by Manuel Graça Dias
We walk, we choose, we go.
An overwhelming desire taken from «giving in» comes over us.
Contrary to the world, we read a series of signs eroded by time. We remember them once again. They are simple fragments of matter with honor and meaning. Matter with honor and meaning... Mechanisms so far distant from their hour that they once again regain their worth.
The bastardized idea of «serving», of regimenting, of functioning!
«It serves for what?» To give us memory, we might say.
Though in a sense useless, poetry serves as an explanation. It alone dares to construct out of pieces of chalk and light the luxury of the true grass of white dwarfs.
And then there are the social movements, which we shouldn't despise, from which are born, sometimes, authentic moments.