A Água Benta

The holy water that baptized
Contaminated the baby
The medicine and its doctor
Could do nothing at all
Despair took hold
Of the priest, the dad, the mom
It was then that someone remembered
A sorcerer from Ossãin
A simple bath of leaves did
What was no longer expected

Later, many, many years later
Man, that boy was now a young man
He became a king among the great babalaôs
Of those, of those like they don't make anymore

The holy water that at will
Lost its magnetism
Disconnected from its power
By a whim of love
Love, the driver of the vital force
That the Chinese call ch'i
That Don Juan calls nagual
That wasn't flowing there
There in the grand baptismal font
Love had stopped flowing

Maybe due to a mere defect in the connection
Subtle between essence and representation
Verbal that every heart must make
Mortal when it stutters its prayer

The holy water that the good Christian
Contaminated without meaning to
The dirty fountain that the sacristan
Used without knowing
The neutral force that moves the hand
Of the killer's dagger
And the surgeon's scalpel
The whole total of the Tao
Quantum blade of desire
That the sorcerer knows how to read

Fractal, eyeing the crack of infinity
Sign, of the mystery in the peacock's tail
Equal, to the mystery in the lion's mane
Equal, to the mystery in the narwhal's tusk