<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782</id><updated>2011-12-03T21:47:10.711-02:00</updated><category term='Nome Próprio'/><category term='Mantras'/><category term='Renaissence'/><category term='Gentileza'/><title type='text'>Ser no Tempo</title><subtitle type='html'>Um canal poético...de imagens, poesias, textos, músicas...sensibilidades</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>74</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-2249116533663049171</id><published>2009-12-17T22:11:00.009-02:00</published><updated>2009-12-17T23:04:02.270-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Olhos nos olhos</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SyrR1KNjjEI/AAAAAAAAA78/aAEvphG7XEI/s1600-h/olhos.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SyrR1KNjjEI/AAAAAAAAA78/aAEvphG7XEI/s400/olhos.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416372213070924866" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tantos olhos vivos, vivazes&lt;br /&gt;Aquele e aquela de olhos redondos, amendoados... &lt;br /&gt;Tantos alunos...como descrevê-los?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;De cada um olhos, olhares...&lt;br /&gt;Uma impressão de olhar&lt;br /&gt;Uma fresta da alma&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uma nova percepção para mim&lt;br /&gt;De mim mesma&lt;br /&gt;Nos conhecemos pelos olhos&lt;br /&gt;Assim ou assado&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Céu ou mar&lt;br /&gt;Avoados ou profundos&lt;br /&gt;Olhar sem medo&lt;br /&gt;Conhecer&lt;br /&gt;Olhos nos olhos&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-2249116533663049171?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/2249116533663049171/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=2249116533663049171&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/2249116533663049171'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/2249116533663049171'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2009/12/olhos-nos-olhos.html' title='Olhos nos olhos'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SyrR1KNjjEI/AAAAAAAAA78/aAEvphG7XEI/s72-c/olhos.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-3448106511164733304</id><published>2009-12-11T12:44:00.002-02:00</published><updated>2009-12-17T23:06:02.373-02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gentileza'/><title type='text'>Profeta Gentileza</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Dny57BwrNLw&amp;hl=pt_BR&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Dny57BwrNLw&amp;hl=pt_BR&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gentileza &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apagaram tudo&lt;br /&gt;Pintaram tudo de cinza&lt;br /&gt;A palavra no muro&lt;br /&gt;Ficou coberta de tinta&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apagaram tudo&lt;br /&gt;Pintaram tudo de cinza&lt;br /&gt;Só ficou no muro&lt;br /&gt;Tristeza e tinta fresca&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nós que passamos apressados&lt;br /&gt;Pelas ruas da cidade&lt;br /&gt;Merecemos ler as letras&lt;br /&gt;E as palavras de Gentileza&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Por isso eu pergunto&lt;br /&gt;À você no mundo&lt;br /&gt;Se é mais inteligente&lt;br /&gt;O livro ou a sabedoria&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O mundo é uma escola&lt;br /&gt;A vida é o circo&lt;br /&gt;Amor palavra que liberta&lt;br /&gt;Já dizia o Profeta&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Marisa Monte )&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-3448106511164733304?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/3448106511164733304/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=3448106511164733304&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/3448106511164733304'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/3448106511164733304'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2009/12/profeta-gentileza.html' title='Profeta Gentileza'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-1680751091051640762</id><published>2009-12-11T12:34:00.003-02:00</published><updated>2009-12-17T23:06:49.480-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Barulho de noite de chuva&lt;br /&gt;Um cachorro uiva &lt;br /&gt;Anjo torto decerto&lt;br /&gt;Adeus ingenuidade&lt;br /&gt;Sonhamos porque o céu existe &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Surgirá outro sentido na vida?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-1680751091051640762?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/1680751091051640762/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=1680751091051640762&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/1680751091051640762'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/1680751091051640762'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2009/12/barulho-de-noite-de-chuva-um-cachorro.html' title=''/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-4378918011746496227</id><published>2009-12-11T12:26:00.011-02:00</published><updated>2009-12-11T13:08:56.169-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.unicamp.br/nipe/galeria/klimt2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 433px;" src="http://www.unicamp.br/nipe/galeria/klimt2.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O futuro é incerto&lt;br /&gt;Insuportável solidão&lt;br /&gt;Como areia esvaindo das mãos&lt;br /&gt;Debruço-me sobre o abismo da emoção&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O tempo chega sem motivação&lt;br /&gt;Cobra de mim uma posição&lt;br /&gt;Oculta-me a saída da confusão&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Penso saber de coisas que não são&lt;br /&gt;Necessidade de uma re-educação&lt;br /&gt;Engano-me com ilusões&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aprender a conviver com as galerias&lt;br /&gt;ou labirintos por onde meu ser se perde&lt;br /&gt;Mas até quando consigo enganar a depressão?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By Danny&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-4378918011746496227?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/4378918011746496227/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=4378918011746496227&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/4378918011746496227'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/4378918011746496227'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2009/12/o-futuro-e-incerto-insuportavel-solidao.html' title=''/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-1432767959262825614</id><published>2009-12-10T20:22:00.001-02:00</published><updated>2009-12-10T20:24:05.580-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Não é fácil</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/k6sQOE_X9yI&amp;hl=pt_BR&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/k6sQOE_X9yI&amp;hl=pt_BR&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não é fácil&lt;br /&gt;Não pensar em você&lt;br /&gt;Não é fácil&lt;br /&gt;É estranho&lt;br /&gt;Não te contar meus planos&lt;br /&gt;Não te encontrar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Todo dia de manhã&lt;br /&gt;Enquanto tomo meu café amargo&lt;br /&gt;É, ainda boto fé&lt;br /&gt;De um dia te ter ao meu lado&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Na verdade eu preciso aprender&lt;br /&gt;Não é fácil, não é fácil&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Onde você anda&lt;br /&gt;Onde está você&lt;br /&gt;Toda vez que saio&lt;br /&gt;Me preparo pra talvez te ver&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Na verdade eu preciso esquecer&lt;br /&gt;Não é fácil, não é fácil&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Todo dia de manhã&lt;br /&gt;Enquanto tomo meu café amargo&lt;br /&gt;É, ainda boto fé&lt;br /&gt;De um dia te ter ao meu lado&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O que eu faço&lt;br /&gt;O que posso fazer?&lt;br /&gt;Não é fácil&lt;br /&gt;Não é fácil&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Se você quisesse ia ser tão legal&lt;br /&gt;Acho que eu seria mais feliz&lt;br /&gt;Do que qualquer mortal&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Na verdade não consigo esquecer&lt;br /&gt;Não é fácil&lt;br /&gt;É estranho&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-1432767959262825614?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/1432767959262825614/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=1432767959262825614&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/1432767959262825614'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/1432767959262825614'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2009/12/nao-e-facil.html' title='Não é fácil'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-5971803752940481129</id><published>2009-12-04T14:28:00.005-02:00</published><updated>2009-12-05T00:50:54.394-02:00</updated><title type='text'>"Para Chegar Até a Lua"</title><content type='html'>Uma amiga do curso de mediação cultural, Eveline Andrade, enviou para a turma o lindo filme de animação nacional "Para Chegar Até a Lua"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/E-F6tIU4ul8&amp;hl=pt_BR&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/E-F6tIU4ul8&amp;hl=pt_BR&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Destaco a narração do filme buscando um diálogo com Eve e o grupo:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Mariel deu a Jaime o seu nome e contou tudo que ele precisava saber. Porém, certos fatos da vida de uma mosca Mariel preferiu não mencionar.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E questionei Eveline se a postura de Mariel foi mediadora ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eveline me respondeu atenciosa e sabiamente:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Acho que independente do que seja dito, nunca é possível dizer tudo. Haverá sempre silêncios. Pq fazemos escolhas. A totalidade é inatingível. Vejo a Mariel como mediadora no sentido de ter aguçado a jornada de Jaime, permitiu que ele seguisse..que ele voasse... Considero essa ação, como uma possibilidade mediadora: criadora de possibilidades, de sentir, de fazeres."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ana Maria Schultze também contribui com comentário sensível:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Concordo com Eve. Mariel, a mãe, fez a opção, o recorte de não contar coisas que poderiam LIMITAR a jornada de Jaime... para que contar que o tempo corria e chegaria ao fim?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ela o deixou livre, abriu a possibilidade dele voar até a lua... que linda mediação! O céu é o limite até onde se pode chegar."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Carinho em todos,&lt;br /&gt;Danny&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-5971803752940481129?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/5971803752940481129/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=5971803752940481129&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/5971803752940481129'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/5971803752940481129'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2009/12/para-eveline-andrade-com-carinho.html' title='&quot;Para Chegar Até a Lua&quot;'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-8618132939335929983</id><published>2009-11-20T16:52:00.002-02:00</published><updated>2009-12-05T01:15:35.130-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Vilarejo</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-g83_ZRGM48"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-g83_ZRGM48&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-8618132939335929983?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/8618132939335929983/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=8618132939335929983&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/8618132939335929983'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/8618132939335929983'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2009/11/vilarejo.html' title='Vilarejo'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-2603322963209051771</id><published>2009-11-18T23:10:00.001-02:00</published><updated>2009-11-18T23:10:44.152-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Seu olhar</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/RYwRK8E5Elw&amp;hl=pt_BR&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/RYwRK8E5Elw&amp;hl=pt_BR&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-2603322963209051771?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/2603322963209051771/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=2603322963209051771&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/2603322963209051771'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/2603322963209051771'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2009/11/seu-olhar.html' title='Seu olhar'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-3244431531169883210</id><published>2009-11-11T23:29:00.009-02:00</published><updated>2009-12-05T01:00:42.087-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Surrealidades</title><content type='html'>Parti meu coração mais uma vez&lt;br /&gt;por continuar me iludindo e &lt;br /&gt;acreditando no amor romântico&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Estou comigo de novo&lt;br /&gt;Mas resta uma última esperança&lt;br /&gt;Que você me apareça em sonho&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me sinto tola&lt;br /&gt;quando tudo é contraditório&lt;br /&gt;Muito ou nada, surrealidades&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Desejo algo que me faça feliz outra vez&lt;br /&gt;uma ligação ou uma mensagem de email&lt;br /&gt;Mas nem uma nesga de fumaça&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fumo pra me sentir anestesiada&lt;br /&gt;Sem tentar entender nada&lt;br /&gt;Será tudo uma brincadeira do medo?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Durmo com receios&lt;br /&gt;Uma realidade que me aflige&lt;br /&gt;Às vezes erro e às vezes acerto&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ass. Danny para Adriano&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-3244431531169883210?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/3244431531169883210/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=3244431531169883210&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/3244431531169883210'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/3244431531169883210'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2009/11/surrealidades.html' title='Surrealidades'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-8261749387567243994</id><published>2009-11-06T01:40:00.001-02:00</published><updated>2009-11-19T00:54:51.147-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Pra ser sincero</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/kCpS3nqjI9Y&amp;hl=pt_BR&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/kCpS3nqjI9Y&amp;hl=pt_BR&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu era tão feliz&lt;br /&gt;E não sabia, amor&lt;br /&gt;Fiz tudo que eu quis&lt;br /&gt;Confesso a minha dor...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E era tão real&lt;br /&gt;Que eu só fazia fantasia&lt;br /&gt;E não fazia mal...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E agora é tanto amor&lt;br /&gt;Me abrace como foi&lt;br /&gt;Te adoro e você vem comigo&lt;br /&gt;Aonde quer que eu vôe...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E o que passou, calou&lt;br /&gt;E o que virá, dirá&lt;br /&gt;E só ao seu lado&lt;br /&gt;Seu telhado&lt;br /&gt;Me faz feliz de novo...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O tempo vai passar&lt;br /&gt;E tudo vai entrar&lt;br /&gt;No jeito certo&lt;br /&gt;De nós dois...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As coisas são assim&lt;br /&gt;E se será, será&lt;br /&gt;Prá ser sincero&lt;br /&gt;Meu remédio é&lt;br /&gt;Te amar, te amar...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não pense, por favor&lt;br /&gt;Que eu não sei dizer&lt;br /&gt;Que é amor tudo&lt;br /&gt;O que eu sinto&lt;br /&gt;Longe de você...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E agora é tanto amor&lt;br /&gt;Me abrace como foi&lt;br /&gt;Te adoro e você vem comigo&lt;br /&gt;Aonde quer que eu vôe...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E o que passou, calou&lt;br /&gt;E o que virá, dirá&lt;br /&gt;E só ao seu lado&lt;br /&gt;Seu telhado&lt;br /&gt;Me faz feliz de novo...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O tempo vai passar&lt;br /&gt;E tudo vai entrar&lt;br /&gt;No jeito certo&lt;br /&gt;De nós dois...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As coisas são assim&lt;br /&gt;E se será, será&lt;br /&gt;Prá ser sincero&lt;br /&gt;Meu remédio é&lt;br /&gt;Te amar, te amar...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não pense, por favor&lt;br /&gt;Que eu não sei dizer&lt;br /&gt;Que é amor tudo&lt;br /&gt;O que eu sinto&lt;br /&gt;Longe de você...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Marisa Monte)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-8261749387567243994?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/8261749387567243994/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=8261749387567243994&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/8261749387567243994'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/8261749387567243994'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2009/11/pra-ser-sincero.html' title='Pra ser sincero'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-3292758965755295815</id><published>2009-11-05T22:18:00.007-02:00</published><updated>2009-11-19T01:07:46.429-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Em qual estrela vc mora?</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/bIxJNISqwmA&amp;hl=pt_BR&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/bIxJNISqwmA&amp;hl=pt_BR&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Solidão, o silêncio das estrelas, a ilusão&lt;br /&gt;Eu pensei que tinha o mundo em minhas mãos&lt;br /&gt;Como um deus e amanheço mortal&lt;br /&gt;E assim, repetindo os mesmos erros, dói em mim&lt;br /&gt;Ver que toda essa procura não tem fim&lt;br /&gt;E o que é que eu procuro afinal?&lt;br /&gt;Um sinal, uma porta pro infinito, o irreal&lt;br /&gt;O que não pode ser dito, afinal&lt;br /&gt;Ser um homem (mulher) em busca de mais, de mais...&lt;br /&gt;Afinal, como estrelas que brilham em paz, em paz...&lt;br /&gt;Solidão, o silêncio das estrelas, a ilusão&lt;br /&gt;Eu pensei que tinha o mundo em minhas mãos&lt;br /&gt;Como um deus e amanheço mortal&lt;br /&gt;Um sinal, uma porta pro infinito, o irreal&lt;br /&gt;O que não pode ser dito, afinal&lt;br /&gt;Ser um homem (mulher) em busca de mais... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Lenine)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-3292758965755295815?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/3292758965755295815/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=3292758965755295815&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/3292758965755295815'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/3292758965755295815'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2009/11/em-qual-estrela-vc-mora.html' title='Em qual estrela vc mora?'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-4213720297848654704</id><published>2009-11-04T11:11:00.010-02:00</published><updated>2009-12-05T01:19:28.623-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Eu-rí-de-ce</title><content type='html'>Fingindo amar&lt;br /&gt;Ilusão de coringa&lt;br /&gt;O Bobo que ri e zomba&lt;br /&gt;O Tesouro da Corte&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;É Orfeu?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Carnes rompidas&lt;br /&gt;Dolorido desencarne&lt;br /&gt;Doidivanas dentro e fora&lt;br /&gt;Sobe e desce&lt;br /&gt;Todos os sentidos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rondando rodopios&lt;br /&gt;Cortezias fugazes&lt;br /&gt;Quando e quanto&lt;br /&gt;caminhando...&lt;br /&gt;indefinidamente&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By Danny&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-4213720297848654704?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/4213720297848654704/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=4213720297848654704&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/4213720297848654704'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/4213720297848654704'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2009/11/eu-ridece.html' title='Eu-rí-de-ce'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-6694563850360824983</id><published>2009-10-24T00:13:00.002-02:00</published><updated>2009-11-04T11:10:25.510-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Uma noite...</title><content type='html'>Uma noite sonhávamos&lt;br /&gt;a vontade infinita de amar&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Uma noite conhecíamos&lt;br /&gt;nosso desejo de estar&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Uma noite pairávamos&lt;br /&gt;entre o céu e a terra&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Numa noite...&lt;br /&gt;Te sentia e me perdia&lt;br /&gt;pra me encontrar&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Crianças brincando de sol&lt;br /&gt;num reinado de sonhos&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Uma supra-realidade sonhada juntos&lt;br /&gt;Sonhando e acordando...noites...&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Uma noite sonhei acordada que te amo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By Danny&lt;br /&gt;For Adriano&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-6694563850360824983?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/6694563850360824983/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=6694563850360824983&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/6694563850360824983'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/6694563850360824983'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2009/10/uma-noite.html' title='Uma noite...'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-554563645490365764</id><published>2008-08-06T00:49:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2008-08-06T01:01:52.015-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Meu Desencanado</title><content type='html'>Me apaixonei&lt;br /&gt;sem querer sonhei o que podíamos ser&lt;br /&gt;sonhei acordada fingindo não sentir dor&lt;br /&gt;prendi o choro e aguei o bom do amor&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-554563645490365764?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/554563645490365764/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=554563645490365764&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/554563645490365764'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/554563645490365764'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2008/08/desencanado-by-danny.html' title='Meu Desencanado'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-6485639164514240374</id><published>2008-08-06T00:26:00.006-03:00</published><updated>2008-08-06T00:49:10.808-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nome Próprio'/><title type='text'>Nome Próprio</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SJke--PxwtI/AAAAAAAAAL8/C9nihFp7Ymg/s1600-h/Leandra_25.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SJke--PxwtI/AAAAAAAAAL8/C9nihFp7Ymg/s400/Leandra_25.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231246509377438418" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um filme realizado em que tudo é possível, até o impossível.&lt;br /&gt;Camila prefere o mundo idealizado, criado a partir das suas próprias referências de intensidade ou referências de intimidade, à realidade. O ideal é possível na medida da aceitação dos próprios desejos.&lt;br /&gt;http://nomepropriofilme.blogspot.com/ &lt;br /&gt;Recomendo!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-6485639164514240374?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/6485639164514240374/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=6485639164514240374&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/6485639164514240374'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/6485639164514240374'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2008/08/nome-prprio.html' title='Nome Próprio'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SJke--PxwtI/AAAAAAAAAL8/C9nihFp7Ymg/s72-c/Leandra_25.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-456888151955106923</id><published>2008-02-08T22:50:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2008-02-08T23:33:24.441-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Olhos da Terra. Olhos de Deus.</title><content type='html'>By André W. Nasser&lt;br /&gt;===========&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fui na floresta outro dia. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somos olhos da Terra. Brotos, extensões. Milhões de bichinhos e seres que povoam a superfície. Eu estava visitando, mas pergunto quem visitava quem. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uma vez vi uma construção na Índia, com um monte de jóias. Cada uma reflete as outras. É como as pessoas e coisas se conectam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somos olhos de Deus. Deus vendo a si mesmo, como o girassol procura a luz. Uma imensa consciência, tentando compreender a si própria.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Olhos da Terra, cada um se espremendo. Tentando encontrar seu par, seu local sob o sol ou sob a sombra. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somos reflexos de tudo. Carregamos todos com quem compartilhamos nossas vida um dia. Essa compreensão, esse sentimento, podemos chamá-lo de despertar, renascer. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quando conheço uma pessoa, ela nós dá de presente um mundo inteiro. Isso nem em cem vidas conseguiríamos explorar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perdi alguém. Tenho a impressão que quem amava está aqui do meu lado. É mais próxima, bem mais próxima do que as pessoas que parecem estar perambulando por aqui.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O amor tem seus atalhos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Assim como há horas distantes mais próximas que horas recentes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Se aquele amor ficar quieto, parece que suas palavras eram cascas de um silêncio dizendo tudo. Que posso chamar de amor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E foram vários amores, assim como eu apenas fui um dentre os deles. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Para os olhos da Terra, a floresta é uma orquestra. É sinfonia. Ruídos, notas, são crostas que escondem um silêncio de abismo. Que nos diz tudo. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Palavras são compridas demais para coisa tão curta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Depois que minha avó morreu, sinto ela mais próxima do que quando estava viva. Sinto minha amada distante assim também. Amada, pais, parentes, amigos, todos. Uma sinfonia de cigarras e vaga-lumes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pessoas mortas próximas e pessoas vivas distantes, coisa estranha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Minha avó era olhos de uma terra distante que veio parar pelas bandas de cá. Olhos azuis de uma terra branca. Que agora retorna para outra terra. Terra verde, azul e amarela. Para ficar me acompanhando para sempre. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Para meu espanto, essas ausências não foram tristes. Ah, quanto sofri por nada. Descobri algo fascinante. Que a ausência é o espírito revelado, tirado de sua casca, de suas palavras, de seu corpo constrangido. Para ser atirado em algo muito maior. Que é a voz silenciosa de todos nós. Um uníssono, como os sapos proseando na floresta. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Com os olhos da Terra, vi. Quanto nos agarramos a uma casca, em vez da vida que sai de lá.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;É como se minha avó e minhas amadas morassem em mim. E que eu pudesse carregá-las comigo para a eternidade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Os olhos da Terra também têm sua cegueira temporária. Somos testemunhas oculares. Mentimos com nossos próprios olhos. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Por isso, sinto que somos olhos da Terra, uma parede de ladrilhos. Um mosaico. Onde as pecinhas são aquelas almas com quem um dia colocamos um ponte com a nossa. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uma rachadura em apenas um daqueles ladrilhos, seria o fim de toda a arte, de cujo mestre ninguém se lembra. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Qualquer gesto bruto partirá a nós todos. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Os olhos da Terra viram surgir os pecados quando surgiram as palavras: eu, tu, ele. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Naquela floresta, percebi muitas coisas. Naquela terra, havia olhos demais para me negar a enxergar. Queira ou não queira, caso até nunca nos encontremos mais, sempre faremos parte de tudo. Assim se construiu um mosaico de amor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O amor é o brilho dos olhos da Terra. É essa proximidade. Interação. Não sei onde começo e você termina. Uma dança. Um vai-e-vem. Uma gangorra de infância. Um contínuo, que posso chamar universo, Deus, cujo nome não importa mais. Os nomes que as corujas cantam são bem mais doces. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nomes geraram muitas guerras. Palavras são notas perdidas de uma sinfonia. A memória "daquela música" da infância que nunca esquecemos. Sabemos que houve uma música que toca nosso coração e carregamos ela como parte de nosso corpo. Quem não tem uma, que atire a primeira palavra. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Acho que a expressão máxima de qualquer religião está na música. Não num nome como "Deus" ou "Nirvana". Mas na música.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Notas são olhos de uma terra mágica. A música resvala sobre aquela barreira sagrada de exprimir o inexprimível.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Muito além das palavras, a música nos arremessa naquele reino que vai muito além da vida e da morte. Onde não há mais medo. Pois não há mais sentimentos de vida ou morte, de desejo ou aversão. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Muito além dos conceitos, ela nos joga impiedosamente sobre aquele reino onde nem saquer sabemos se estamos vivos ou mortos: nessa hora, nem importa muito. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Muito além dos olhos da mente, somos arrebatados aos olhos da Terra. Pois até mesmo o universo tem um coração que bate, dizem os cientistas. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aí sim, entendemos o que é o imortal. O grande maestro. O escultor do mosaico de olhinhos. Esse é o real sentimento do amor, da vida, do divino, de encontro de nós todos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Por fim, descobri. Em terra de cego, quem tem os olhos da Terra, tem tudo !&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-- AWN&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-456888151955106923?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/456888151955106923/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=456888151955106923&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/456888151955106923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/456888151955106923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2008/02/olhos-da-terra-olhos-de-deus.html' title='Olhos da Terra. Olhos de Deus.'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-7200952585285560241</id><published>2008-02-08T11:55:00.001-02:00</published><updated>2008-02-08T11:56:45.904-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Lindo filme!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_jggPROeXW8s/R6xfdKEQpjI/AAAAAAAAAFA/Av0j2it-wMM/s1600-h/partition.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_jggPROeXW8s/R6xfdKEQpjI/AAAAAAAAAFA/Av0j2it-wMM/s400/partition.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5164607827210184242" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Índia, 1947, nos últimos dias do Governo Britânico, um estilo de vida está prestes a chegar ao fim. Culturas entrelaçadas são forçadas à separação. Enquanto uma nação é dividida, duas vidas encontram-se numa história profunda e imensa que revela a ternura do coração humano no mais violento dos tempos. Do premiado caxemiriano Vic Sarin, chega-nos Filhos de Deuses Diferentes, uma história de amor intemporal, com os Himalaias como pano de fundo. Determinado em deixar para trás a devastação da guerra, Gian Sing (Jimi Mistry), um Sikh, demite-se do Exército Britânico Indiano para levar uma vida calma, como agricultor. O seu mundo depressa irá agitar-se quando, subitamente, se vê responsável por uma rapariga muçulmana de 17 anos, Naseem Khan (Kristin Kreuk) traumatizada pelos acontecimentos que a separaram da sua família. Aos poucos, resistindo a todos os tabus, Gian apaixona-se pela vulnerável Naseem, que timidamente corresponde.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-7200952585285560241?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/7200952585285560241/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=7200952585285560241&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/7200952585285560241'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/7200952585285560241'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2008/02/lindo-filme.html' title='Lindo filme!'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jggPROeXW8s/R6xfdKEQpjI/AAAAAAAAAFA/Av0j2it-wMM/s72-c/partition.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-8833088515682428421</id><published>2008-01-13T02:40:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2008-01-13T02:41:41.097-02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Renaissence'/><title type='text'>Carpet of the Sun (Renaissence)</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/XtSQFewjDD0&amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/XtSQFewjDD0&amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Carpet of the sun - banda: Renaissance&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come along with me&lt;br /&gt;Down into the world of seeing&lt;br /&gt;Come and you'll be free&lt;br /&gt;Take the time to find the feeling&lt;br /&gt;See everything on it's own&lt;br /&gt;And you'll find you know the way&lt;br /&gt;And you'll know the things you're shown&lt;br /&gt;Owe everything to the day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See the carpet of the sun&lt;br /&gt;The green grass soft and sweet&lt;br /&gt;Sands upon the shores of time&lt;br /&gt;Of oceans mountains deep&lt;br /&gt;Part of the world that you live in&lt;br /&gt;You are the part that you're giving&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come into the day&lt;br /&gt;Feel the sunshine warmth around you&lt;br /&gt;Sounds from far away&lt;br /&gt;Music of the love that found you&lt;br /&gt;The seed that you plant today&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow will be a tree&lt;br /&gt;And living goes on this way&lt;br /&gt;It's all part of you and me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*** tradução: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Venha comigo&lt;br /&gt;Para o mundo que se pode ver&lt;br /&gt;Venha e sinta-se livre&lt;br /&gt;Dê-se tempo para encontrar o sentimento&lt;br /&gt;Veja tudo como é&lt;br /&gt;E descobrirá que conhece o caminho&lt;br /&gt;E saberá que as coisas que te mostram&lt;br /&gt;São gratas ao dia de hoje&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Veja o tapete do sol&lt;br /&gt;A grama verde, macia e doce&lt;br /&gt;Areias sobre os litorais do tempo&lt;br /&gt;De oceanos, montanhas profundos&lt;br /&gt;Faz parte do mundo em que você vive&lt;br /&gt;Você é a parte que você está dando&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Venha dia adentro&lt;br /&gt;Sinta os raios do sol te abraçarem&lt;br /&gt;Sons de muito longe&lt;br /&gt;Música do amor que encontrou você&lt;br /&gt;A semente que você planta hoje&lt;br /&gt;Amanhã será uma árvore&lt;br /&gt;E a vida segue dessa forma&lt;br /&gt;É tudo parte de você e de mim&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-8833088515682428421?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/8833088515682428421/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=8833088515682428421&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/8833088515682428421'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/8833088515682428421'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2008/01/carpet-of-sun-renaissence.html' title='Carpet of the Sun (Renaissence)'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-29964673594930812</id><published>2008-01-13T01:51:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2008-01-13T02:00:24.309-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Quase nada</title><content type='html'>Quase nada &lt;br /&gt;Música: Zeca Baleiro&lt;br /&gt;Letra: Alice Ruiz&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/pHirVTOKzZ0&amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/pHirVTOKzZ0&amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pHirVTOKzZ0&amp;eurl&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;de você sei quase nada&lt;br /&gt;pra onde vai ou porque veio&lt;br /&gt;nem mesmo sei&lt;br /&gt;qual é a parte da tua estrada&lt;br /&gt;no meu caminho&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;será um atalho&lt;br /&gt;ou um desvio&lt;br /&gt;um rio raso&lt;br /&gt;um passo em falso&lt;br /&gt;um prato fundo&lt;br /&gt;pra toda fome que há no mundo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;noite alta que revele&lt;br /&gt;o passeio pela pele&lt;br /&gt;dia claro madrugada&lt;br /&gt;de nós dois não sei mais nada&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;se tudo passa como se explica&lt;br /&gt;o amor que fica nessa parada&lt;br /&gt;amor que chega sem dar aviso&lt;br /&gt;não é preciso saber mais nada&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(não é preciso dizer mais nada)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-29964673594930812?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/29964673594930812/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=29964673594930812&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/29964673594930812'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/29964673594930812'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2008/01/quase-nada.html' title='Quase nada'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-2326979727512027335</id><published>2007-11-27T11:07:00.001-02:00</published><updated>2007-11-27T11:07:16.136-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Hare Krshna</title><content type='html'>&lt;table bgcolor="#000000" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;embed quality="high" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" bgcolor="#000" width="328" height="94" src="http://res0.esnips.com/escentral/images/widgets/flash/esnips_player.swf" flashvars="theTheme=blue&amp;autoPlay=no&amp;theFile=http://www.esnips.com//nsdoc/b95cbf03-b2f5-4175-a334-cf423e6c6b8d&amp;theName=HARE RAMA HARE KRISHNA&amp;thePlayerURL=http://res0.esnips.com/escentral/images/widgets/flash/mp3WidgetPlayer.swf"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;table cellpadding="2" style="font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; padding-left:2px; color:#FFFFFF; text-decoration:none ; ; font-size:10px; font-weight:bold"&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a style="color:#FFFFFF; text-decoration:none " href="http://www.esnips.com/CreateWidgetAction.ns?type=0&amp;objectid=b95cbf03-b2f5-4175-a334-cf423e6c6b8d"&gt;     Get this widget &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="font-size:7px; font-weight:normal;"&gt;|&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="center"&gt;&lt;a align="center" style="color:#FFFFFF; text-decoration:none " href="http://www.esnips.com/doc/b95cbf03-b2f5-4175-a334-cf423e6c6b8d/HARE-RAMA-HARE-KRISHNA/?widget=flash_player_esnips_blue"&gt;     Track details  &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="font-size:7px; font-weight:normal;"&gt;|&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a align="center" style="color:#FF6600; text-decoration:none" href="http://www.esnips.com//adserver/?action=visit&amp;cid=player_dna&amp;url=/socialdna"&gt;   eSnips Social DNA    &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;img style="visibility:hidden;width:0px;height:0px;" border=0 width=0 height=0 src="http://counters.gigya.com/wildfire/CIMP/JnB*PTExOTYxNjg4NDYwMDAmcD*4Njk1MSZkPXZpZXdlck1QMyZuPWJsb2dnZXI=.jpg" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-2326979727512027335?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/2326979727512027335/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=2326979727512027335&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/2326979727512027335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/2326979727512027335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2007/11/hare-krshna.html' title='Hare Krshna'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-7437179123744225184</id><published>2007-10-12T12:33:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-10-12T12:35:20.048-03:00</updated><title type='text'>“Canto da Alma” – Krishna Mayi devi dasi.</title><content type='html'>Para que tanta bagagem &lt;br /&gt;acumulas em vão?&lt;br /&gt;A viagem é curta,&lt;br /&gt;e os sonhos, ilusão....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não te apresses, &lt;br /&gt;há um tempo para tudo;&lt;br /&gt;para nascer, ser e morrer.&lt;br /&gt;O fim é o começo, &lt;br /&gt;o ocaso é o amanhecer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O que buscas está no coração.&lt;br /&gt;Fecha as tuas janelas,&lt;br /&gt;Solta as malas,&lt;br /&gt;as amarras,&lt;br /&gt;põe os pés no chão.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deixa vir a consciência,&lt;br /&gt;vê a alma despida, teu eu;&lt;br /&gt;a superalma, razão da tua existência,&lt;br /&gt;vê as pedras e o caminho.&lt;br /&gt;Segue viagem então.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-7437179123744225184?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/7437179123744225184/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=7437179123744225184&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/7437179123744225184'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/7437179123744225184'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2007/10/canto-da-alma-krishna-mayi-devi-dasi.html' title='“Canto da Alma” – Krishna Mayi devi dasi.'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-5699021423243253251</id><published>2007-10-12T12:24:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2007-10-12T12:24:13.938-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_jggPROeXW8s/Rujay1_SJpI/AAAAAAAAAC4/2chIGdAltik/s1600-h/prod_cds_Radha-Govinda-Atma.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_jggPROeXW8s/Rujay1_SJpI/AAAAAAAAAC4/2chIGdAltik/s400/prod_cds_Radha-Govinda-Atma.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5109574344272651922" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-5699021423243253251?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/5699021423243253251/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=5699021423243253251&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/5699021423243253251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/5699021423243253251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2007/10/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_jggPROeXW8s/Rujay1_SJpI/AAAAAAAAAC4/2chIGdAltik/s72-c/prod_cds_Radha-Govinda-Atma.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-2477928623550397695</id><published>2007-10-09T12:12:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-10-09T12:23:08.540-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A cidade parou pro sol se pôr&lt;br /&gt;ecoa distante um som no vácuo...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Estrela minha, compreenda o sentido da vida...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dentro, fora e distante&lt;br /&gt;Uma sensação, uma impressão e uma percepção&lt;br /&gt;Uma brecha para o infinito&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-2477928623550397695?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/2477928623550397695/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=2477928623550397695&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/2477928623550397695'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/2477928623550397695'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2007/10/cidade-parou-pro-sol-se-pr-ecoa.html' title=''/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-8541484997582329236</id><published>2007-09-30T12:03:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2008-02-08T23:07:09.662-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Cheia de Céu</title><content type='html'>Do alto da colina&lt;br /&gt;teu nome ecoa até o mar &lt;br /&gt;voa sobre campos e vales&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sussura como o vento entre as árvores&lt;br /&gt;numa calma quase estática&lt;br /&gt;sob a lua cheia iluminada&lt;br /&gt;um céu negro se abre&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um filme corre as estradas&lt;br /&gt;e a cada curva uma lágrima&lt;br /&gt;Fujo pra tentar te encontrar mais uma vez&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;by Danny&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-8541484997582329236?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/8541484997582329236/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=8541484997582329236&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/8541484997582329236'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/8541484997582329236'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2007/09/do-alto-da-colina-seu-nome-ecoa-voa.html' title='Cheia de Céu'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-8171783176357622847</id><published>2007-09-28T11:08:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-09-28T11:09:25.243-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Zeca Baleiro - Alma Nova</title><content type='html'>Sempre que te vejo assim&lt;br /&gt;linda nua e um pouco nervosa&lt;br /&gt;minha velha alma&lt;br /&gt;cria alma nova&lt;br /&gt;quer voar pela boca&lt;br /&gt;quer sair por aí&lt;br /&gt;e eu digo &lt;br /&gt;calma alma minha&lt;br /&gt;calminha&lt;br /&gt;ainda não é hora de partir&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;então  ficamos&lt;br /&gt;minha alma e eu&lt;br /&gt;olhando o corpo teu &lt;br /&gt;sem entender&lt;br /&gt;como é que a alma entra nessa história&lt;br /&gt;afinal o amor é tão carnal&lt;br /&gt;eu bem que tento &lt;br /&gt;tento entender&lt;br /&gt;mas a minha alma não quer nem saber&lt;br /&gt;só quer entrar em você&lt;br /&gt;como tantas vezes já me viu fazer&lt;br /&gt;e eu digo&lt;br /&gt;calma alma minha&lt;br /&gt;calminha&lt;br /&gt;você tem muito o que aprender&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-8171783176357622847?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/8171783176357622847/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=8171783176357622847&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/8171783176357622847'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/8171783176357622847'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2007/09/zeca-baleiro-alma-nova.html' title='Zeca Baleiro - Alma Nova'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-318987770095495392</id><published>2007-09-12T09:35:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-10-12T12:23:31.490-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Um canto</title><content type='html'>Quero sentir o cheiro&lt;br /&gt;do mar em seus cabelos&lt;br /&gt;ver o sol nascer na sua pele morena&lt;br /&gt;radiando aos quatro ventos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quero andar em lugares nunca imaginados&lt;br /&gt;entre cogumelos e flores&lt;br /&gt;trocar pneu furado&lt;br /&gt;sentir ciúmes sem matar&lt;br /&gt;e sob as estrelas te aquecer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quero viajar pra Visconde de Mauá&lt;br /&gt;sentar numa pedra&lt;br /&gt;e deixar a cachoeira me levar&lt;br /&gt;pra perto de você&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quero te beijar sob o edredon&lt;br /&gt;e te amar como se só existisse aquele momento&lt;br /&gt;ser suave como o sereno sobre os campos&lt;br /&gt;e me sentir feliz simplesmente&lt;br /&gt;feliz de volta ao eterno&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By Danny&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-318987770095495392?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/318987770095495392/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=318987770095495392&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/318987770095495392'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/318987770095495392'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2007/09/quero-sentir-o-cheiro-do-mar-em-seus.html' title='Um canto'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-8712224275778329228</id><published>2007-09-09T16:08:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-09-10T10:22:58.555-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Armadilha de sentidos</title><content type='html'>vi seus olhos dentro de mim&lt;br /&gt;uma doce beleza nos fez rir&lt;br /&gt;o que estava procurando?&lt;br /&gt;o que era aquilo, um pacto ou um desafio?&lt;br /&gt;não posso sonhar&lt;br /&gt;não posso te adicionar&lt;br /&gt;mas quero te entender&lt;br /&gt;preciso &lt;br /&gt;você entrou na minha vida pela porta dos sentidos&lt;br /&gt;onde vivo uma virtualidade paralela&lt;br /&gt;o que existe ?&lt;br /&gt;você não se compromete&lt;br /&gt;monta a armadilha&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-8712224275778329228?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/8712224275778329228/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=8712224275778329228&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/8712224275778329228'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/8712224275778329228'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2007/09/pacto-dos-sentidos.html' title='Armadilha de sentidos'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-4162770387281160426</id><published>2007-09-05T02:42:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-09-28T11:25:04.138-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mantras'/><title type='text'>Xanty</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_jggPROeXW8s/Rt4JkXyTHcI/AAAAAAAAACc/BYEvSFhjB0k/s1600-h/Xanty.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_jggPROeXW8s/Rt4JkXyTHcI/AAAAAAAAACc/BYEvSFhjB0k/s400/Xanty.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5106529547949645250" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://edsonfrederico.multiply.com/music/item/18/Xanty_-_Homem_de_Bem"&gt;Xanty - Homem de Bem&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sita Ram é o mantra preferido de Maratmah Ghandi e significa Tolerância, para ouvir este mantra interpretado lindamente por Tomás Lima (Homem de Bem):&lt;br /&gt;http://edsonfrederico.multiply.com/music/item/18/Xanty_-_Homem_de_Bem"&lt;br /&gt;Hari Bol!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-4162770387281160426?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/4162770387281160426/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=4162770387281160426&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/4162770387281160426'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/4162770387281160426'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2007/09/xanty.html' title='Xanty'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_jggPROeXW8s/Rt4JkXyTHcI/AAAAAAAAACc/BYEvSFhjB0k/s72-c/Xanty.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-8699851902398512878</id><published>2007-08-12T15:38:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-08-12T11:40:43.552-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Amor é Fogo que arde sem se ver</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;de Luís Vaz de Camões&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amor é fogo que arde sem se ver,&lt;br /&gt;é ferida que dói, e não se sente;&lt;br /&gt;é um contentamento descontente,&lt;br /&gt;é dor que desatina sem doer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;É um não querer mais que bem querer;&lt;br /&gt;é um andar solitário entre a gente;&lt;br /&gt;é nunca contentar-se de contente;&lt;br /&gt;é um cuidar que ganha em se perder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;É querer estar preso por vontade;&lt;br /&gt;é servir a quem vence, o vencedor;&lt;br /&gt;é ter com quem nos mata, lealdade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mas como causar pode seu favor&lt;br /&gt;nos corações humanos amizade,&lt;br /&gt;se tão contrário a si é o mesmo Amor?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obtido em "http://pt.wikisource.org/wiki/Amor_%C3%A9_fogo_que_arde_sem_se_ver"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-8699851902398512878?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/8699851902398512878/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=8699851902398512878&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/8699851902398512878'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/8699851902398512878'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2007/08/amor-fogo-que-arde-sem-se-ver.html' title='Amor é Fogo que arde sem se ver'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-1271894459569470111</id><published>2007-07-22T18:44:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-08-12T11:38:22.469-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Despida da Carne</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_jggPROeXW8s/Rr3tyjwO6xI/AAAAAAAAAA0/xEvPDVOR9Ok/s1600-h/matisse-nuazul.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_jggPROeXW8s/Rr3tyjwO6xI/AAAAAAAAAA0/xEvPDVOR9Ok/s400/matisse-nuazul.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5097491806100056850" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Despir ou não despir-me&lt;br /&gt;da carne desvelar-me&lt;br /&gt;a que preço?&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Me recuso a abdicar&lt;br /&gt;de sonhos e desejos&lt;br /&gt;Diz o poeta que somos feitos de sonhos&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Despista&lt;br /&gt;sei que me queres despida&lt;br /&gt;Minha carne crua&lt;br /&gt;num banquete platônico&lt;br /&gt;me desejas nua&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Penso em seu corpo nú&lt;br /&gt;a saciar-se&lt;br /&gt;em cada gota&lt;br /&gt;amantes unidos&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Mas não quero ouvi-lo&lt;br /&gt;apenas senti-lo&lt;br /&gt;e me esquecer&lt;br /&gt;de toda crueldade&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-1271894459569470111?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/1271894459569470111/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=1271894459569470111&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/1271894459569470111'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/1271894459569470111'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2007/07/despida-da-carne.html' title='Despida da Carne'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_jggPROeXW8s/Rr3tyjwO6xI/AAAAAAAAAA0/xEvPDVOR9Ok/s72-c/matisse-nuazul.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-7586345600025116072</id><published>2007-07-22T16:21:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2007-08-12T11:53:57.165-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Para os amantes, O Banquete</title><content type='html'>Um recorte sobre o amor:&lt;br /&gt;"Toda ação, com efeito , é assim que se apresenta:&lt;br /&gt;em si mesma,&lt;br /&gt;enquanto simplesmente praticada, nem é bela , mas é na ação,&lt;br /&gt;na maneira como é feito,&lt;br /&gt;que resulta tal; o que é bela e corretamente feito fica belo,&lt;br /&gt;o que não o é fica feio. Assim é que o amar e o Amor não é todo ele belo e digno de ser louvado,&lt;br /&gt;mas apenas o que leva a amar belamente."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Para baixar o livro:&lt;br /&gt;http://virtualbooks.terra.com.br&lt;br /&gt;/freebook/didaticos/O_Banquete.htm&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-7586345600025116072?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/7586345600025116072/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=7586345600025116072&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/7586345600025116072'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/7586345600025116072'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2007/07/para-os-amante-o-banquete.html' title='Para os amantes, O Banquete'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-6203204775212979838</id><published>2007-06-17T04:17:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-06-17T00:23:18.569-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Três Poemas Zen</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_jggPROeXW8s/RnSofBaLAQI/AAAAAAAAAAs/PsBrBm70w-Q/s1600-h/Path.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:left;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_jggPROeXW8s/RnSofBaLAQI/AAAAAAAAAAs/PsBrBm70w-Q/s320/Path.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5076867930861011202" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Perguntas&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As pessoas perguntam&lt;br /&gt;O que há de errado&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O sábio pergunta&lt;br /&gt;O que não há de errado&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As pessoas querem saber&lt;br /&gt;O que é o Caminho&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O sábio quer saber&lt;br /&gt;O que o Caminho não é --&lt;br /&gt;Pois ele conhece o Caminho.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Escapar&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Escape das coisas&lt;br /&gt;Durante o dia&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As coisas te perseguirão&lt;br /&gt;Durante a noite&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Corra -- E te perseguirão mais&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caia e morra.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Porém, Retorne -- e renasça !&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Retorne ao seu povo&lt;br /&gt;Retorne à sua família&lt;br /&gt;Retorne a você mesmo&lt;br /&gt;Assim, retorne ao Caminho&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não há Caminho&lt;br /&gt;Sem você.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ferir&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aceite você&lt;br /&gt;E aceite ao outro&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aceite ao outro&lt;br /&gt;E aceite a você&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pois --Você está nele&lt;br /&gt;Ele em você&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fira a ele&lt;br /&gt;E ferirá a você mesmo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quem quer se machucar ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dois tornam-se um&lt;br /&gt;E nenhum se fere&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Olhe os olhos dele -- está com raiva.&lt;br /&gt;Que desastre !&lt;br /&gt;Ele está lutando consigo mesmo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Respire profundamente&lt;br /&gt;E dê de presente a ele: Um olhar sereno&lt;br /&gt;Pois você está em paz&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Você está -- passo a passo a passo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No Caminho.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;by André Whittick Nasser&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-6203204775212979838?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/6203204775212979838/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=6203204775212979838&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/6203204775212979838'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/6203204775212979838'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2007/06/trs-poemas-zen.html' title='Três Poemas Zen'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_jggPROeXW8s/RnSofBaLAQI/AAAAAAAAAAs/PsBrBm70w-Q/s72-c/Path.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-4086023118018832540</id><published>2007-06-16T13:57:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-08-13T08:41:31.804-03:00</updated><title type='text'>No ritmo de um mantra</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_jggPROeXW8s/RsBDZTwO6zI/AAAAAAAAABE/p_XkqYLk7so/s1600-h/celestial.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_jggPROeXW8s/RsBDZTwO6zI/AAAAAAAAABE/p_XkqYLk7so/s400/celestial.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5098148880261770034" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um abraço &lt;br /&gt;um beijo&lt;br /&gt;duas linguas &lt;br /&gt;se enroscam em vários sentidos&lt;br /&gt;quantos sentidos...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Te sinto em mim iluminado&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Por que esquecer?&lt;br /&gt;Lembre-se do melhor de nós&lt;br /&gt;Não esqueças&lt;br /&gt;que o tempo é relativo&lt;br /&gt;ontem, hoje, amanhã&lt;br /&gt;enquanto estivermos aqui&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorvo teu suor&lt;br /&gt;para matar minha sede&lt;br /&gt;hidrogênio duas vezes&lt;br /&gt;perco o oxigênio&lt;br /&gt;água e muita saliva&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um pacto espiritual&lt;br /&gt;Uma fusão corporal&lt;br /&gt;a carne trêmula se faz refém&lt;br /&gt;e partimos além&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-4086023118018832540?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/4086023118018832540/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=4086023118018832540&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/4086023118018832540'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/4086023118018832540'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2007/06/no-ritmo-de-um-mantra.html' title='No ritmo de um mantra'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_jggPROeXW8s/RsBDZTwO6zI/AAAAAAAAABE/p_XkqYLk7so/s72-c/celestial.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-5524865360865019984</id><published>2007-06-11T00:37:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-06-10T20:38:49.954-03:00</updated><title type='text'>NÃO TE AMO...</title><content type='html'>Como se fosses rosa de sal, topázio&lt;br /&gt;ou flecha de cravos que propagam o fogo:&lt;br /&gt;te amo como se amam certas coisas obscuras,&lt;br /&gt;secretamente, entre a sombra e a alma.&lt;br /&gt;Te amo como a planta que não floresce e leva&lt;br /&gt;dentro de si, oculta, a luz daquelas flores,&lt;br /&gt;e graças a teu amor vive escuro em meu corpo&lt;br /&gt;o apertado aroma que ascendeu da terra.&lt;br /&gt;Te amo sem saber como, nem quando, nem onde,&lt;br /&gt;te amo diretamente sem problemas nem orgulho:&lt;br /&gt;assim te amo porque não sei amar de outra maneira,&lt;br /&gt;senão assim deste modo em que não sou nem és&lt;br /&gt;tão perto que tua mão sobre meu peito é minha&lt;br /&gt;tão perto que se fecham teus olhos com meu sonho.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pablo Neruda&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-5524865360865019984?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/5524865360865019984/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=5524865360865019984&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/5524865360865019984'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/5524865360865019984'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2007/06/no-te-amo.html' title='NÃO TE AMO...'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-2191187785910729416</id><published>2007-06-10T00:40:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-08-13T08:40:14.510-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Cítaras celestiais</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_jggPROeXW8s/RsBCvTwO6yI/AAAAAAAAAA8/VICAyU9YkyY/s1600-h/venave.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_jggPROeXW8s/RsBCvTwO6yI/AAAAAAAAAA8/VICAyU9YkyY/s400/venave.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5098148158707264290" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ao som dos búzios celestiais &lt;br /&gt;os anjos se reúnem &lt;br /&gt;Emanam a origem das cores &lt;br /&gt;até o sol poente&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não os vejo mas posso ouvi-los &lt;br /&gt;Com os olhos senti-los&lt;br /&gt;Tocam suas cítaras ao redor do mundo&lt;br /&gt;Enquanto milhares de sóis se põem&lt;br /&gt;A cada milésimo de segundo&lt;br /&gt;E novamente Krishna me chama a dançar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Olhos amendoados e cabelos ao vento&lt;br /&gt;A mensagem emanada pelos inúmeros sons&lt;br /&gt;Numa celebração de eternidade&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hari Bol!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-2191187785910729416?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/2191187785910729416/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=2191187785910729416&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/2191187785910729416'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/2191187785910729416'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2007/06/ctaras-celestiais.html' title='Cítaras celestiais'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_jggPROeXW8s/RsBCvTwO6yI/AAAAAAAAAA8/VICAyU9YkyY/s72-c/venave.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-5768470796501050751</id><published>2007-06-10T00:00:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-06-09T20:49:58.602-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Legião</title><content type='html'>Toda poesia é canto...&lt;br /&gt;Toda canção é imagem&lt;br /&gt;sua presença é poesia, canto, imaginação...&lt;br /&gt;toda música é verdade&lt;br /&gt;sempre existe um ouvido carente&lt;br /&gt;uma saudade...  &lt;br /&gt;O que é um "lirismo bom"?&lt;br /&gt;Sou fruto da Legião Urbana&lt;br /&gt;e me sinto muito bem por isso&lt;br /&gt;não foi tempo perdido...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-5768470796501050751?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/5768470796501050751/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=5768470796501050751&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/5768470796501050751'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/5768470796501050751'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2007/06/toda-poesia-canto.html' title='Legião'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-4519216506398805796</id><published>2007-06-09T20:00:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-06-09T16:01:26.570-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Todos os tons de cereja...</title><content type='html'>Rapte-me, Camaleoa&lt;br /&gt;Composição: Caetano Veloso&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rapte-me camaleoa&lt;br /&gt;Adapte-me a uma cama boa&lt;br /&gt;Capte-me uma mensagem à toa&lt;br /&gt;De uma quasar pulsando loa&lt;br /&gt;Interestelar canoa&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leitos perfeitos&lt;br /&gt;Seus peitos direitos me olham assim&lt;br /&gt;Fino menino me inclino pro lado do sim&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rapte-me, adapte-me, capte-me&lt;br /&gt;It's up to me&lt;br /&gt;Coração&lt;br /&gt;Sem querer ser merecer ser um camaleão&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rapte-me camaleoa&lt;br /&gt;Adapte-me ao seu&lt;br /&gt;Ne me quitte pas&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-4519216506398805796?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/4519216506398805796/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=4519216506398805796&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/4519216506398805796'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/4519216506398805796'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2007/06/seduo-pura.html' title='Todos os tons de cereja...'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-820226789911412010</id><published>2007-06-08T00:04:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-07-13T21:29:15.213-03:00</updated><title type='text'>O fruto do desejo</title><content type='html'>Amores desencontrados&lt;br /&gt;O desejo voa&lt;br /&gt;atravessa a baía&lt;br /&gt;à procura&lt;br /&gt;corre quilômetros&lt;br /&gt;estampa no céu sem núvens&lt;br /&gt;todos os tons de cereja&lt;br /&gt;Preciso de você&lt;br /&gt;Fruto do  desejo&lt;br /&gt;na duração de uma música dos beatles&lt;br /&gt;Para ter todas as cores&lt;br /&gt;Outra vez&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-820226789911412010?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/820226789911412010/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=820226789911412010&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/820226789911412010'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/820226789911412010'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2007/06/o-fruto-do-desejo.html' title='O fruto do desejo'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-1602586493416167271</id><published>2007-06-07T23:18:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-06-09T16:04:21.574-03:00</updated><title type='text'>RODA VIVA</title><content type='html'>Somos prisioneiros de nossos desejos&lt;br /&gt;Fico sonhando com teu sorriso&lt;br /&gt;A divagar &lt;em&gt;alone&lt;/em&gt; na mesa de um bar&lt;br /&gt;Me lembro de nossos momentos íntimos&lt;br /&gt;Bocas sangradas no ápice do gozo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A palavra é um pensamento concreto&lt;br /&gt;uma onda que se propaga&lt;br /&gt;uma realidade que se cria&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Onde está você saltimbanco&lt;br /&gt;Da Rua Alice no país dos desejos?&lt;br /&gt;Agora só penso no teu sorriso&lt;br /&gt;um convite ao prazer se abrindo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As afinidades preenchem oceanos&lt;br /&gt;Transbordam risos &lt;br /&gt;Ondas de pessosas e mais pessoas&lt;br /&gt;Identificações e humores&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E eu nesta roda viva&lt;br /&gt;entre copos e cigarros&lt;br /&gt;olhos ou cadeiras vazias&lt;br /&gt;sorriso ou cama fria&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-1602586493416167271?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/1602586493416167271/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=1602586493416167271&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/1602586493416167271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/1602586493416167271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2007/06/roda-viva.html' title='RODA VIVA'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-4136237838331850938</id><published>2007-05-30T22:00:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-05-30T18:03:39.732-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Para Lolli (Barcelona te merece!)</title><content type='html'>É bom acender a lareira&lt;br /&gt;me deixar queimar como madeira&lt;br /&gt;olho e vejo&lt;br /&gt;dentro do fogo o frio&lt;br /&gt;na espinha de pedras o rio&lt;br /&gt;O fogo precisa de ar&lt;br /&gt;para poder respirar&lt;br /&gt;a água precisa de terra&lt;br /&gt;pra ter onde pousar&lt;br /&gt;as horas passam ali&lt;br /&gt;junto, o relógio de Dali&lt;br /&gt;Iluminando a luz de cada&lt;br /&gt;sem teto e sem nada&lt;br /&gt;-mas na casa nao tinha chão!&lt;br /&gt;- nem parede, então!&lt;br /&gt;Vai ver, vcs nao viram...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-4136237838331850938?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/4136237838331850938/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=4136237838331850938&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/4136237838331850938'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/4136237838331850938'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2007/05/para-lolli-barcelona-te-merece.html' title='Para Lolli (Barcelona te merece!)'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-6926257228690557677</id><published>2007-05-22T23:21:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2008-02-08T23:12:57.285-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Engano nosso de cada dia</title><content type='html'>Coincidência ou não &lt;br /&gt;você apareceu de novo&lt;br /&gt;da mesma forma inesperada&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;o sorriso cheio de prazer&lt;br /&gt;a fluidez dos gestos&lt;br /&gt;a paixão de viver &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;re-conheci você&lt;br /&gt;de um passado escondido&lt;br /&gt;em minha intensidade&lt;br /&gt;era tudo que eu queria&lt;br /&gt;admirável e imprevisível&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não se deixe escapar de mim&lt;br /&gt;a paixão se dá pelos poros e&lt;br /&gt;por um momento nossas almas se encontraram&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;será uma pista ou um mero engano?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-6926257228690557677?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/6926257228690557677/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=6926257228690557677&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/6926257228690557677'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/6926257228690557677'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2007/05/engano-nosso-de-cada-dia.html' title='Engano nosso de cada dia'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-1811675396703255066</id><published>2007-05-20T04:13:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-05-20T00:13:46.510-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Preciso dizer que te amo</title><content type='html'>Marina Lima&lt;br /&gt;Composição: Dê / Bebel Gilberto / Cazuza&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quando a gente conversa&lt;br /&gt;Contando casos, besteiras&lt;br /&gt;Tanta coisa em comum&lt;br /&gt;Deixando escapar segredos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E eu não sei em que hora dizer&lt;br /&gt;Me dá um medo, que medo&lt;br /&gt;Eu preciso dizer que eu te amo&lt;br /&gt;Te ganhar ou perder sem engano&lt;br /&gt;Eu preciso dizer que eu te amo&lt;br /&gt;Tanto&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E até o tempo passa arrastado&lt;br /&gt;Só pra eu ficar do teu lado&lt;br /&gt;Você me chora dores de outro amor&lt;br /&gt;Se abre e acaba comigo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E nessa novela eu não quero ser teu amigo&lt;br /&gt;Que amigo, oh!&lt;br /&gt;Que eu preciso dizer que eu te amo&lt;br /&gt;Te ganhar ou perder sem engano&lt;br /&gt;Que eu preciso dizer que eu te amo&lt;br /&gt;Tanto&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-1811675396703255066?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/1811675396703255066/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=1811675396703255066&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/1811675396703255066'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/1811675396703255066'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2007/05/preciso-dizer-que-te-amo.html' title='Preciso dizer que te amo'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-7406466826940502596</id><published>2007-05-19T16:41:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-05-21T18:22:31.529-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Outro Fragmento</title><content type='html'>Vida Vida Vida&lt;br /&gt;Consciência do Cotidiano&lt;br /&gt;Ser é vir a ser...um tempo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A vida nada mais é que energia&lt;br /&gt;emocional passional sexual&lt;br /&gt;um estado de abertura pro mundo&lt;br /&gt;experiências de prazer e dever&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;porque enganar-se a si próprio?&lt;br /&gt;a realidade não faz sentido mas é crua&lt;br /&gt;cada um é um na complexidade dos desejos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Te quero anjo&lt;br /&gt;um fragmento de oxigênio&lt;br /&gt;pra respirar o último resto de prazer&lt;br /&gt;...no término de um sorriso... &lt;br /&gt;o início de outro...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-7406466826940502596?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/7406466826940502596/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=7406466826940502596&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/7406466826940502596'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/7406466826940502596'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2007/05/vida-vida-vida-conscincia-do-cotidiano.html' title='Outro Fragmento'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-8092113251593976364</id><published>2007-05-13T13:12:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-07-13T21:25:43.797-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Saltimbanco</title><content type='html'>A vida é Poesia !&lt;br /&gt;esqueçamos as linhas do destino&lt;br /&gt;que sustentam as estruturas&lt;br /&gt;fios condutores de realidades&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Por um momento os fluidos se misturam&lt;br /&gt;Tudo se cria, até novas possibilidades&lt;br /&gt;Na Rua Alice do País das Maravilhas&lt;br /&gt;Gotas de vinho diluem o sangue pisado&lt;br /&gt;Amanhece de novo o dia&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No céu aquarela navegam nuvens translúcidas&lt;br /&gt;Os pássaros inocentes a voar sem saber de nós&lt;br /&gt;Nem mesmo nós sabemos o que falamos&lt;br /&gt;e nos rendemos aos sentidos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Entre as estrelas, você!&lt;br /&gt;Anjo rebelde a dançar&lt;br /&gt;Saltimbanco na corda bamba&lt;br /&gt;De cada gesto desmedido&lt;br /&gt;A fluidez do prazer num sorriso&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Danny Boop&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-8092113251593976364?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/8092113251593976364/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=8092113251593976364&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/8092113251593976364'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/8092113251593976364'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2007/05/saltimbanco.html' title='Saltimbanco'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-2582269674626588179</id><published>2007-03-23T19:35:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-03-23T15:36:49.146-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Todo fim é um começo</title><content type='html'>É pau, é pedra, é o fim do caminho&lt;br /&gt;é um resto de toco, é um pouco sozinho&lt;br /&gt;é um caco de vidro, é a vida, é o sol&lt;br /&gt;é a noite, é a morte, é um laço, é o anzol&lt;br /&gt;é peroba do campo, é o nó da madeira&lt;br /&gt;caingá, candeia, é o Matita Pereira&lt;br /&gt;É madeira de vento, tombo da ribanceira&lt;br /&gt;é o mistério profundo&lt;br /&gt;é o queira ou não queira&lt;br /&gt;é o vento ventando, é o fim da ladeira&lt;br /&gt;é a viga, é o vão, festa da cumeeira&lt;br /&gt;é a chuva chovendo, é conversa ribeira&lt;br /&gt;das águas de março, é o fim da canseira&lt;br /&gt;é o pé, é o chão, é a marcha estradeira&lt;br /&gt;passarinho na mão, pedra de atiradeira&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uma ave no céu, uma ave no chão&lt;br /&gt;é um regato, é uma fonte&lt;br /&gt;é um pedaço de pão&lt;br /&gt;é o fundo do poço, é o fim do caminho&lt;br /&gt;no rosto o desgosto, é um pouco sozinho&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;É um estrepe, é um prego&lt;br /&gt;é uma ponta, é um ponto&lt;br /&gt;é um pingo pingando&lt;br /&gt;é uma conta, é um conto&lt;br /&gt;é um peixe, é um gesto&lt;br /&gt;é uma prata brilhando&lt;br /&gt;é a luz da manhã, é o tijolo chegando&lt;br /&gt;é a lenha, é o dia, é o fim da picada&lt;br /&gt;é a garrafa de cana, o estilhaço na estrada&lt;br /&gt;é o projeto da casa, é o corpo na cama&lt;br /&gt;é o carro enguiçado, é a lama, é a lama&lt;br /&gt;é um passo, é uma ponte&lt;br /&gt;é um sapo, é uma rã&lt;br /&gt;é um resto de mato, na luz da manhã&lt;br /&gt;são as águas de março fechando o verão&lt;br /&gt;é a promessa de vida no teu coração&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;É pau, é pedra, é o fim do caminho&lt;br /&gt;é um resto de toco, é um pouco sozinho&lt;br /&gt;é uma cobra, é um pau, é João, é José&lt;br /&gt;é um espinho na mão, é um corte no pé&lt;br /&gt;são as águas de março fechando o verão&lt;br /&gt;é a promessa de vida no teu coração&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;É pau, é pedra, é o fim do caminho&lt;br /&gt;é um resto de toco, é um pouco sozinho&lt;br /&gt;é um passo, é uma ponte&lt;br /&gt;é um sapo, é uma rã&lt;br /&gt;é um belo horizonte, é uma febre terçã&lt;br /&gt;são as águas de março fechando o verão&lt;br /&gt;é a promessa de vida no teu coração&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;É pau, é pedra, é o fim do caminho&lt;br /&gt;é um resto de toco, é um pouco sozinho&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;É pau, é pedra, é o fim do caminho&lt;br /&gt;é um resto de toco, é um pouco sozinho&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pau, pedra, fim do caminho&lt;br /&gt;resto de toco, pouco sozinho&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pau, pedra, fim do caminho,&lt;br /&gt;resto de toco, pouco sozinho&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-2582269674626588179?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/2582269674626588179/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=2582269674626588179&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/2582269674626588179'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/2582269674626588179'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2007/03/todo-fim-um-comeo.html' title='Todo fim é um começo'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-5490327116318156788</id><published>2007-02-09T20:08:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2007-02-09T20:08:39.516-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_VntJ7GwAuAo/RczxJ2cyRTI/AAAAAAAAACI/R5qfd9Vc3h4/s1600-h/ImprecisÃ£o.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5029660035403367730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_VntJ7GwAuAo/RczxJ2cyRTI/AAAAAAAAACI/R5qfd9Vc3h4/s400/Imprecis%C3%A3o.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-5490327116318156788?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/5490327116318156788/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=5490327116318156788&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/5490327116318156788'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/5490327116318156788'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2007/02/blog-post_1417.html' title=''/><author><name>Andre Whittick Nasser</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_VntJ7GwAuAo/RczxJ2cyRTI/AAAAAAAAACI/R5qfd9Vc3h4/s72-c/Imprecis%C3%A3o.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-2129356755496063862</id><published>2007-02-09T20:07:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2007-02-09T20:06:50.335-02:00</updated><title type='text'>A vida é do baralho !</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;A vida é um eterno carteado &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;O conhecimento, assim chamado &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;É um baralho de infinitas cartas &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;O erudito &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Em sua pobreza das dúvidas exatas &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Embaralha, embaralha, sobre a mesa &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Quanta esperteza... &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;O sábio, com vara de marmelo &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Pega meia dúzia &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;E constrói um magnífico castelo &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;AWN&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-2129356755496063862?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/2129356755496063862/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=2129356755496063862&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/2129356755496063862'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/2129356755496063862'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2007/02/vida-do-baralho.html' title='A vida é do baralho !'/><author><name>Andre Whittick Nasser</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-3401251366468653803</id><published>2007-02-09T20:04:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2007-02-09T20:01:47.733-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_VntJ7GwAuAo/RczwO2cyRSI/AAAAAAAAAB8/X72K8JB_LyA/s1600-h/Tudo.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5029659021791085858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_VntJ7GwAuAo/RczwO2cyRSI/AAAAAAAAAB8/X72K8JB_LyA/s400/Tudo.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-3401251366468653803?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/3401251366468653803/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=3401251366468653803&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/3401251366468653803'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/3401251366468653803'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2007/02/blog-post_6095.html' title=''/><author><name>Andre Whittick Nasser</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_VntJ7GwAuAo/RczwO2cyRSI/AAAAAAAAAB8/X72K8JB_LyA/s72-c/Tudo.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-2543224471096385958</id><published>2007-02-09T19:55:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2007-02-09T19:54:30.500-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Shake's Cat</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_VntJ7GwAuAo/RczvD2cyRRI/AAAAAAAAABw/7InALc2n3f8/s1600-h/cat.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5029657733300897042" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_VntJ7GwAuAo/RczvD2cyRRI/AAAAAAAAABw/7InALc2n3f8/s400/cat.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Pussycat, pussycat&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;What wouldst thou have with me?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Good king of cats ! &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;What might it be ? &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Thy grasp on my heart, o knives&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;What dream I -- askest thou unto me ? &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Nothing but one of nine lives &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;O Pussycat, pussycat mine &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Knowst not why the patter ? &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;That is the reason I shan't sever &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I love thee ever: but it is no matter &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Thou downst me in riddles &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;In riddles words come may ! &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;The cat shall mew, and the dog shall have his day.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;AWN&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-2543224471096385958?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/2543224471096385958/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=2543224471096385958&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/2543224471096385958'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/2543224471096385958'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2007/02/shakes-cat.html' title='Shake&apos;s Cat'/><author><name>Andre Whittick Nasser</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_VntJ7GwAuAo/RczvD2cyRRI/AAAAAAAAABw/7InALc2n3f8/s72-c/cat.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-3994382401531609539</id><published>2007-02-09T19:53:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2007-02-09T19:54:05.653-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_VntJ7GwAuAo/Rcztg2cyRQI/AAAAAAAAABk/fEg8tMiMIHA/s1600-h/Si.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5029656032493847810" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_VntJ7GwAuAo/Rcztg2cyRQI/AAAAAAAAABk/fEg8tMiMIHA/s400/Si.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-3994382401531609539?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/3994382401531609539/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=3994382401531609539&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/3994382401531609539'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/3994382401531609539'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2007/02/blog-post_09.html' title=''/><author><name>Andre Whittick Nasser</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_VntJ7GwAuAo/Rcztg2cyRQI/AAAAAAAAABk/fEg8tMiMIHA/s72-c/Si.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-7419692564968461930</id><published>2007-02-09T19:39:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2007-02-06T20:37:53.633-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Formigas</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Pois, meus caros, às formigas... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Seremos tão dignos um dia ? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Nunca uma formiga matou uma irmã. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Nem estuprou uma filha. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Nunca uma formiga criou uma doença em proveta. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Nem construiu uma bomba atômica. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Tampouco vi uma formiga destruir a natureza. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Vejam só, todos trabalham, até a rainha ! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Ainda, não têm religião, constituição ou coisa que as valha. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Ah, as formigas... Seremos tão humanos um dia ?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AWN&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-7419692564968461930?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/7419692564968461930/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=7419692564968461930&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/7419692564968461930'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/7419692564968461930'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2007/02/formigas.html' title='Formigas'/><author><name>Andre Whittick Nasser</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-117078206671352642</id><published>2007-02-06T15:12:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2007-02-06T15:14:26.713-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/5150/357/1600/241490/Querubym.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/5150/357/400/748395/Querubym.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-117078206671352642?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/117078206671352642/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=117078206671352642&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/117078206671352642'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/117078206671352642'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2007/02/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Andre Whittick Nasser</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-117078187325454104</id><published>2007-02-06T15:09:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2007-02-06T15:11:13.266-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Poetando</title><content type='html'>Um dia serei poeta&lt;br /&gt;Com verso belo e proseiro&lt;br /&gt;Hoje, isso não me afeta --&lt;br /&gt;Por ora, sou apenas poeteiro !&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AWN&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-117078187325454104?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/117078187325454104/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=117078187325454104&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/117078187325454104'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/117078187325454104'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2007/02/poetando.html' title='Poetando'/><author><name>Andre Whittick Nasser</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-117071401692690552</id><published>2007-02-05T20:16:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2007-02-05T20:20:16.936-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Sonho</title><content type='html'>sonhamos apenas o mesmo sonho&lt;br /&gt;a realidade que nos foge no descontrole&lt;br /&gt;sonhamos o mesmo sonho a realidade que nos foge do controle&lt;br /&gt;sonhamos apenas sonhos da mesma realidade que não tem controle&lt;br /&gt;sonhamos um sonho sem controle remoto&lt;br /&gt;e vagamos na realidade que nos parece sonho, onde afinal estamos?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-117071401692690552?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/117071401692690552/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=117071401692690552&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/117071401692690552'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/117071401692690552'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2007/02/sonho.html' title='Sonho'/><author><name>George Orteyga</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09114137423638089165</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-116830607473255650</id><published>2007-01-09T05:23:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2007-01-08T23:29:17.390-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Amar</title><content type='html'>de Florbela Espanca&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu quero amar, amar perdidamente!&lt;br /&gt;Amar só por amar: aqui...além...&lt;br /&gt;Mais este e aquele, o outro e toda a gente...&lt;br /&gt;Amar!Amar! E não amar ninguém!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recordar? Esquecer? Indiferente!...&lt;br /&gt;Prender ou desprender? É mal? É bem?&lt;br /&gt;Quem disse que se pode amar alguém&lt;br /&gt;Durante a vida inteira é porque mente!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Há uma primavera em cada vida:&lt;br /&gt;É preciso cantá-la assim florida,&lt;br /&gt;Pois se Deus nos deu voz, foi pra cantar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E se um dia hei de ser pó, cinza e nada&lt;br /&gt;Que seja a minha noite uma alvorada,&lt;br /&gt;Que me saiba perder...pra me encontrar...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-116830607473255650?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/116830607473255650/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=116830607473255650&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/116830607473255650'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/116830607473255650'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2007/01/amar.html' title='Amar'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-116830810501021791</id><published>2007-01-08T23:57:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2007-01-20T03:14:08.443-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Montanhas</title><content type='html'>O que separa os centros &lt;br /&gt;São os grandes espaços&lt;br /&gt;Ao longe pairam montanhas no horizonte&lt;br /&gt;cobertas de névoa&lt;br /&gt;Parecem recortar do céu a terra&lt;br /&gt;como se não fossem deste mundo&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-116830810501021791?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/116830810501021791/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=116830810501021791&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/116830810501021791'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/116830810501021791'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2007/01/montanhas.html' title='Montanhas'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-116809280544293972</id><published>2007-01-06T06:12:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2007-01-06T16:05:27.796-02:00</updated><title type='text'>O Maior Bem</title><content type='html'>36 primaveras e foi-se ela&lt;br /&gt;na mesma idade quando me assumi poeta&lt;br /&gt;Antes dela pousar como o orvalho em meu jardim&lt;br /&gt;Fez-se Neruda e Quintana&lt;br /&gt;meu maior bem:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"O Maior Bem"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(de Florbela Espanca)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Este querer-te bem sem me quereres,&lt;br /&gt;Este sofrer por ti constantemente,&lt;br /&gt;Andar atrás de ti sem tu me veres&lt;br /&gt;Faria piedade a toda gente.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mesmo a beijar-me a tua boca mente...&lt;br /&gt;Quantos sangrentos beijos de mulheres&lt;br /&gt;Pousa na minha a tua boca ardente,&lt;br /&gt;e quanto engano nos teus vãos dizeres!...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mas que me importa a mim que me não queiras,&lt;br /&gt;Se esta pena, esta dor, estas canseiras,&lt;br /&gt;Este mísero pungir, árduo e profundo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do teu desamor, dos teus desdéns,&lt;br /&gt;É, na vida, o mais alto dos meus bens?&lt;br /&gt;É tudo quanto eu tenho neste mundo?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-116809280544293972?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/116809280544293972/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=116809280544293972&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/116809280544293972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/116809280544293972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2007/01/o-maior-bem.html' title='O Maior Bem'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-116776205166684472</id><published>2007-01-02T22:23:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2007-01-03T02:41:17.716-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Bonecos de Cera</title><content type='html'>Olhares ficam a vagar&lt;br /&gt;e mergulhas a cada turba&lt;br /&gt;buscando um outro olhar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quem é você,&lt;br /&gt;anjo demoníaco ou&lt;br /&gt;demônio angelical?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tome cuidado para não se perder&lt;br /&gt;não existem leis que se encaixem&lt;br /&gt;com seu modo de ser&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Estão todos a controlar&lt;br /&gt;o que você faz ou deixa de fazer&lt;br /&gt;Alguns ainda querem se aproveitar&lt;br /&gt;da sua inocência&lt;br /&gt;que parece loucura&lt;br /&gt;para aqueles ditos medíocres&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imagens caem &lt;br /&gt;líderes são enforcados &lt;br /&gt;e o mundo se divide mais uma vez&lt;br /&gt;e continua se enganando&lt;br /&gt;com toda estupidez&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fuja, corra!&lt;br /&gt;Se ficares aqui vais acabar&lt;br /&gt;fundido com os outros&lt;br /&gt;iguais bonecos feitos de cera&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-116776205166684472?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/116776205166684472/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=116776205166684472&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/116776205166684472'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/116776205166684472'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2007/01/bonecos-de-cera.html' title='Bonecos de Cera'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-116766647925240761</id><published>2007-01-01T13:31:00.001-02:00</published><updated>2007-01-02T15:29:20.323-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Inquietação</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;era uma vez a noite&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;era uma vez a sombra &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;era uma vez o escuro cálido que perdurava na janela pelo vento &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;que uivava a lamúria de um cão sedento&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;e clamava o cão pelo calor do dia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;mas a noite cruel e tenebrosa lhe negava rasgar o véu que em sua sua face pendia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;e o cão continuou a implorar, e desta vez ao vento que ruminava nas paredes do tempo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;que acelerasse a chegada da manhã &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;e o vento nada lhe respondeu&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;o silêncio tornou-se sólido e&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;o cão não mais chorou o advento do sol que de muito longe o ouvia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;e veio a manhã e lá estava o cão &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;morto&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;sob a luz do sol que de muito longe o ouvira.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;George Orteyga&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-116766647925240761?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/116766647925240761/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=116766647925240761&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/116766647925240761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/116766647925240761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2007/01/inquietao_01.html' title='Inquietação'/><author><name>George Orteyga</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09114137423638089165</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-116702134584952141</id><published>2006-12-26T05:15:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2006-12-25T22:47:31.086-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Espaço Negro Abissal</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4772/3493/1600/109125/kotoba.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="http://www.ne.jp/asahi/secret/label/collection.html" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4772/3493/320/176336/kotoba.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do espaço negro abissal&lt;br /&gt;surgem pequenos contornos&lt;br /&gt;líquidos&lt;br /&gt;iluminados e imprecisos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Para minha surpresa&lt;br /&gt;formam um perfil conhecido:&lt;br /&gt;seu rosto&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Belos traços exóticos&lt;br /&gt;a brilhar em minha órbita&lt;br /&gt;iluminando meus desejos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Estaria meu desejo criando formas&lt;br /&gt;Mesmo sem querer ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imploro&lt;br /&gt;olho pela janela&lt;br /&gt;de queixo caído a procurar respostas&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;À distância uma cidade estática&lt;br /&gt;segura de edifícios sólidos&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Move-se uma pergunta no abismo profundo:&lt;br /&gt;e agora?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-116702134584952141?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/116702134584952141/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=116702134584952141&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/116702134584952141'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/116702134584952141'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2006/12/espao-negro-abissal.html' title='Espaço Negro Abissal'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-116665855803616611</id><published>2006-12-23T20:17:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2007-02-06T20:37:53.692-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Saudades Além dos Mares</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4772/3493/1600/619756/kaiki.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="http://www.ne.jp/asahi/secret/label/collection.html" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4772/3493/320/281875/kaiki.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Queria ter asas de anjo&lt;br /&gt;para voar ao seu encontro&lt;br /&gt;Leve como o vento leva&lt;br /&gt;as folhas que caem&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Talvez eu consiga voar&lt;br /&gt;com os pássaros para outro lugar&lt;br /&gt;por cima das terras&lt;br /&gt;por cima de tudo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vento que venta e refresca&lt;br /&gt;Leve uma mensagem para mim&lt;br /&gt;e sopre a minha saudade sem fim&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Traga-me das terras além dos mares&lt;br /&gt;a paz das árvores talhadas&lt;br /&gt;pelo silêncio que foge&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ass.: Salomé (Danny Boop)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-116665855803616611?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/116665855803616611/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=116665855803616611&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/116665855803616611'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/116665855803616611'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2006/12/saudades-alm-dos-mares.html' title='Saudades Além dos Mares'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-116689152502328758</id><published>2006-12-23T06:26:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2006-12-25T18:43:23.330-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Sonhos Secretos</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4772/3493/1600/698332/Croire.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="http://kazimierz.dzyga.free.fr/" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4772/3493/320/596255/Croire.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4772/3493/1600/792316/Croire.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Queria nascer semente&lt;br /&gt;da terra que arde ao sol&lt;br /&gt;e não se queima&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tornar-me tão leve quanto o algodão&lt;br /&gt;que na serenidade da leveza&lt;br /&gt;explode em turbilhões de estrelas&lt;br /&gt;a emoção contida em meu ser&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Espelho&lt;br /&gt;Embaçado pelo orvalho&lt;br /&gt;nobre e belo na manhã de primavera&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mas, se for tarde de outono&lt;br /&gt;que eu seja anjo do inverno&lt;br /&gt;um recital de violino&lt;br /&gt;aquecendo as almas adormecidas&lt;br /&gt;em seus sonhos secretos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ass.: George Orteyga e Salomé&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-116689152502328758?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/116689152502328758/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=116689152502328758&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/116689152502328758'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/116689152502328758'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2006/12/sonhos-secretos.html' title='Sonhos Secretos'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-116674015496735951</id><published>2006-12-21T19:49:00.001-02:00</published><updated>2006-12-27T11:37:52.516-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Borboleta da morte...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4772/3493/1600/146866/OdaaJoanMiro1973.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4772/3493/320/126544/OdaaJoanMiro1973.jpg" border="0" alt="Jean Miro, Oda a Joan Miro, 1973" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Porque veio até a mim&lt;br /&gt;a hora da noite&lt;br /&gt;quando o meu corpo ia dormir&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Por que estás a me contemplar&lt;br /&gt;com olhos verdes de paz?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O mover de suas asas de ferro oxidado&lt;br /&gt;trazem um ar frio e  cálido&lt;br /&gt;em que o espectro sombrio e tenebroso&lt;br /&gt;da sua face lívida e tenaz&lt;br /&gt;me oferece o gosto agridoce do sacrificio&lt;br /&gt;sem cálice ou sangue...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A visão de seu corpo pequeno e frágil&lt;br /&gt;me deixa estarrecido porque és como o corvo&lt;br /&gt;que no grito flamejante agoniza o ser que sente&lt;br /&gt;e o deixa caído num sono profundo atormentado&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Embora estejas aí em silêncio&lt;br /&gt;eu sinto a sua voz gutural refletir na minh'alma&lt;br /&gt;como um sustenido agudo me convertendo em anêmico&lt;br /&gt;verme sem forma&lt;br /&gt;distorcido e contorcido pelo murmúrio das sereias da negra noite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Porque você não se afasta para eu existir por mais uma tarde&lt;br /&gt;por mais um efemero momento de eternidade?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ass: George Orteyga&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-116674015496735951?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/116674015496735951/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=116674015496735951&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/116674015496735951'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/116674015496735951'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2006/12/borboleta-da-morte_21.html' title='Borboleta da morte...'/><author><name>George Orteyga</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09114137423638089165</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-116665939208183993</id><published>2006-12-20T22:01:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2006-12-25T23:36:14.233-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Parte de mim</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4772/3493/1600/217009/narciso_dali.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4772/3493/320/592186/narciso_dali.jpg" border="0" alt="Salvador Dali, Metamorfose de Narciso, 1937" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Parte de mim é mistério&lt;br /&gt;Parte de mim é silêncio&lt;br /&gt;Parte de mim é morte&lt;br /&gt;Parte de mim é fora&lt;br /&gt;Parte de mim é dentro&lt;br /&gt;Parte de Tudo &lt;br /&gt;Tudo em partes&lt;br /&gt;Em parte eu sou algo que escapa&lt;br /&gt;de mim mesmo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ass.: George Orteyga e Salomé&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-116665939208183993?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/116665939208183993/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=116665939208183993&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/116665939208183993'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/116665939208183993'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2006/12/parte-de-mim.html' title='Parte de mim'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-116665927093638566</id><published>2006-12-20T21:59:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2006-12-26T00:12:41.496-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Letras Negras</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4772/3493/1600/168573/Saw_Three_Cities.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4772/3493/320/574582/Saw_Three_Cities.jpg" border="0" alt="Kay Sage, I Saw Three Cities, 1944" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Com minhas letras negras&lt;br /&gt;Escrevo o obscuro ser&lt;br /&gt;que sai de mim&lt;br /&gt;com asas de morcego&lt;br /&gt;a uma região sem fim&lt;br /&gt;onde o medo é o monarca&lt;br /&gt;e o amor&lt;br /&gt;um escravo sem nome&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ass.: George Orteyga&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-116665927093638566?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/116665927093638566/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=116665927093638566&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/116665927093638566'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/116665927093638566'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2006/12/letras-negras.html' title='Letras Negras'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-116636312789063255</id><published>2006-12-17T17:45:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2006-12-25T22:53:20.206-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Paixão nossa de cada dia ...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4772/3493/1600/944348/man_ray00.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4772/3493/320/473930/man_ray00.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Que paixão é essa que muda de corpo a cada esquina?&lt;br /&gt;que nos alimenta a cada dia &lt;br /&gt;de ilusões ensandecidas&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Que corpo é esse que muda de paixão a cada instante?&lt;br /&gt;Está por aí, de alma livre&lt;br /&gt;A viajar de avião, de barca ou qualquer embarcação&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Que vazio é esse de viver sem paixão?&lt;br /&gt;que seja ela de curta duração&lt;br /&gt;não importa&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-116636312789063255?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/116636312789063255/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=116636312789063255&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/116636312789063255'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/116636312789063255'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2006/12/paixo-nossa-de-cada-dia.html' title='Paixão nossa de cada dia ...'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-116610255126599183</id><published>2006-12-15T05:22:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2006-12-25T23:01:01.510-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Pele de Fogo</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4772/3493/1600/381488/edgar_ende00.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4772/3493/320/731737/edgar_ende00.jpg" border="0" alt="http://www.artelab.it/cultura/enciclopedia/correnti/surrealismo/corpo.htm" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Linda pele morena&lt;br /&gt;Queima como fogo&lt;br /&gt;por dentro e por fora&lt;br /&gt;no ápice do gozo&lt;br /&gt;Desejo absorvê-la &lt;br /&gt;gota por gota&lt;br /&gt;até desfalecer de prazer&lt;br /&gt;Paixão de poros&lt;br /&gt;dois corpos&lt;br /&gt;Uma única loucura&lt;br /&gt;Única procura &lt;br /&gt;Um único prazer &lt;br /&gt;Queimar a língua&lt;br /&gt;Sentindo seu gosto&lt;br /&gt;Redescobrir a maça&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-116610255126599183?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/116610255126599183/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=116610255126599183&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/116610255126599183'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/116610255126599183'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2006/12/pele-de-fogo.html' title='Pele de Fogo'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-116605283665749627</id><published>2006-12-14T03:33:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2007-07-13T21:16:42.916-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Fractais dos sentidos (para Serafin)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4772/3493/1600/36675/minotauro4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4772/3493/320/618610/minotauro4.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Metáforas&lt;br /&gt;Sentidos oníricos&lt;br /&gt;Que ressinto&lt;br /&gt;Criam-se imagens&lt;br /&gt;nos espelhos&lt;br /&gt;Te sinto &lt;br /&gt;entre as letras&lt;br /&gt;se formam labirintos&lt;br /&gt;Minotauro perdido &lt;br /&gt;nas esquinas dos sentidos&lt;br /&gt;Fractais se formam e&lt;br /&gt;Tudo é belo&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-116605283665749627?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/116605283665749627/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=116605283665749627&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/116605283665749627'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/116605283665749627'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2006/12/fractais-dos-sentidos-para-serafin.html' title='Fractais dos sentidos (para Serafin)'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-116411504061843863</id><published>2006-11-21T17:10:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2006-12-17T23:50:01.246-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Diálogos</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;-Calígula,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;Porque desejar o amor impossível?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;-Sofrer é a condição de sentir o amor, Ícaro.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;Incondicionalmente sofrer o amor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;é melhor que sofrer a impotência&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;de um desamor.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;Todos precisam do amor seja ele possível ou impossível.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-116411504061843863?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/116411504061843863/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=116411504061843863&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/116411504061843863'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/116411504061843863'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2006/11/dilogos.html' title='Diálogos'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-115715834923718170</id><published>2006-09-02T01:46:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2006-09-02T13:25:52.746-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Menino Mau</title><content type='html'>Quando me olhas&lt;br /&gt;Com uma pureza devassa&lt;br /&gt;Devo tapar meus olhos?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quando me falas&lt;br /&gt;nas entrelinhas&lt;br /&gt;verdades malditas&lt;br /&gt;Devo tapar meus ouvidos?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quando me provocas&lt;br /&gt;um indescritível desejo&lt;br /&gt;Devo gelar minha carne?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quando me falas&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;nas entrelinhas&lt;br /&gt;o que evitamos&lt;br /&gt;Devo furar meus tímpanos?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quando saem da sua boca&lt;br /&gt;palavras não ditas&lt;br /&gt;Devo te amar?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quando me feres&lt;br /&gt;na amargura das palavras&lt;br /&gt;Devo te ferir?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Danny - 01/9&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-115715834923718170?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/115715834923718170/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=115715834923718170&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/115715834923718170'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/115715834923718170'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2006/09/menino-mau.html' title='Menino Mau'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-115696817179435613</id><published>2006-08-30T20:57:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2006-08-30T17:06:45.820-03:00</updated><title type='text'>A Vida</title><content type='html'>Fachada de Prédios&lt;br /&gt;de frente pro mar&lt;br /&gt;Uma revoada de pássaros&lt;br /&gt;num movimento circular&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A vida é assim: uma revoada...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Onda que vem e que vai&lt;br /&gt;Sem voltar pro mesmo lugar&lt;br /&gt;E na reviravolta de voltas&lt;br /&gt;Amar ou não amar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A vida é uma linha contínua&lt;br /&gt;Uma corda de Violão&lt;br /&gt;Onda que deforma&lt;br /&gt;Acorda pra ouvir o som&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A vida é fibra&lt;br /&gt;Linhas que se cruzam&lt;br /&gt;formando uma trama&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A vida é uma tela branca&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Danny-29-08&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-115696817179435613?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/115696817179435613/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=115696817179435613&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/115696817179435613'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/115696817179435613'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2006/08/vida.html' title='A Vida'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-115524201997417310</id><published>2006-08-10T21:29:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2006-08-11T10:56:01.173-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Instante Poético em Ipanema</title><content type='html'>Visualize: Ipanema, 17:25, fim de julho&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O Ceú era rosa e o mar azul&lt;br /&gt;Por um momento tudo era esplendor&lt;br /&gt;E as ondas brincavam de roda&lt;br /&gt;Na areia&lt;br /&gt;Formando espelhos d' água&lt;br /&gt;que refletiam nesgas de nuvens&lt;br /&gt;e o perfil daqueles que faziam cooper&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Naquele instante precisamente&lt;br /&gt;a poesia se fez em mim&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-115524201997417310?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/115524201997417310/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=115524201997417310&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/115524201997417310'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/115524201997417310'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2006/08/instante-potico-em-ipanema.html' title='Instante Poético em Ipanema'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-115470337749830508</id><published>2006-08-04T19:01:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2006-11-21T11:16:34.976-02:00</updated><title type='text'>O Templo Sagrado</title><content type='html'>Há tanto tempo&lt;br /&gt;o mesmo modo de amar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dissipam-se as Brumas e surge&lt;br /&gt;no fim do mundo&lt;br /&gt;O templo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Espaço sagrado&lt;br /&gt;estância de emoções&lt;br /&gt;de vez em quando recebe um visitante&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Por uma instância ele permanece lá&lt;br /&gt;Até onde isso pode durar?&lt;br /&gt;Qual dimensão poderá tomar?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mistura-se o amor com o sofrer&lt;br /&gt;No templo no fim do mundo&lt;br /&gt;Onde nada há a perder&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Só vejo você dentro de mim&lt;br /&gt;O sofrimento expandiu-se em prazer e gozo&lt;br /&gt;Só então existe o amor&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-115470337749830508?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/115470337749830508/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=115470337749830508&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/115470337749830508'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/115470337749830508'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2006/08/o-templo-sagrado.html' title='O Templo Sagrado'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32031782.post-115447463928024612</id><published>2006-08-01T20:23:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2006-12-25T22:37:13.126-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Tempo Tempo Tempo</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4772/3493/1600/491910/salvador_dali00.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4772/3493/320/7544/salvador_dali00.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do relógio&lt;br /&gt;ouvimos dois tempos&lt;br /&gt;tem po tem po tem po tem po&lt;br /&gt;aprendemos a dividi-lo em três tempos&lt;br /&gt;tempo passado&lt;br /&gt;tempo presente&lt;br /&gt;tempo futuro&lt;br /&gt;e te pergunto:&lt;br /&gt;que tempo é agora?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32031782-115447463928024612?l=ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/feeds/115447463928024612/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32031782&amp;postID=115447463928024612&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/115447463928024612'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32031782/posts/default/115447463928024612'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ser-no-tempo.blogspot.com/2006/08/tempo-tempo-tempo.html' title='Tempo Tempo Tempo'/><author><name>Danielle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08456893352221383972</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jggPROeXW8s/SwSnc6IMp4I/AAAAAAAAA7U/5pfXVn0HvdE/S220/minhaFoto.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
