A letter to the pseudonym

Dear Alastus;

When I first saw him off on a dream
What inflamed arrow crossed his chest.
When I wake me with sublime fact:
The infamous arrow also had affected me.

When I decided to give up life, with black feathers and lily pages,
I did not think that souls ink also remains captivated,
I did not think that the heart that beats in me also gave you life,
I did not think that was creating a second self.

Today Alastus am, and no regrets;
Today I can fly and sing along to the bards as you,
Today I can only do what was in ink and paper,
Today I know that I held the pages to let go in life.

To release me I needed to be who you were
However I saw that thou wast a reflection of me
However no skin, no handcuffs, no clothing, no labels.
Even prisoner ink was always freer than me.

Something in the console, Alastus!
We are not in the doctor and monster.
The higher I go, higher I dream,
And these are my dreams that you fly!

Is full, creature!
João Paulo A. Mendonça