José Araujo de Souza

In the country of Consenor
which is north of the Earth
between a fictional meridian and any parallel,
the weather is mild, mild, the days are clear
and the nights – oh, the nights are real wonders.
Starry, with an almost supernatural light.
The days in Consenor are not twenty-four hours long
and the minutes are as many seconds as needed
to have a perfect day.
There are no clocks to enslave time.
Consenor is a country full of green and blue,
where a people flees from other places,
it is not known where.
There, the names are appropriate for the occasions
and any citizen can be called José
or John or Alcibiades and the next moment
be Peter, Strauss, Shersmann, or simply
be anonymous.
All the inhabitants of Consenor are children.
There, there is no chronological age
because there is neither regulated nor regulated time
by calendars or ticks.
When someone dies, it will be naturally,
because there is no jealousy, or envy, or uncontrolled desire,
no reason to hurt or be hurt in Consenor.
So death in Consenor is never punishment,
It’s just a premium you pay to live
throughout the lifetime
in peace, in the nonexistent country of Consenor.

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