Tuesday, July 01, 2008


(for you)

What is said has been said. Words have unexpectedly exploded in the air like premature fireworks bringing momentary light and fancy. Their ashes have fallen upon us and it is either our decision to brush them off our shoulders or let them stay as little tokens of unwanted accomplishment. You’ve already decided, a long time ago, to sweep them away and be back as clean and clear as possible. But I hold on to these ashes. I’ve even clasped them so hard in my palms that they’ve only brought me so much sore only the crushed ones have felt. The kind of sore I am trying to avoid.

Due to the perplexing nature of the mind, a pebble has been thrown into the water and we’ve both witnessed the ripples it makes on the mirror-like beauty, breaking the smooth reflection of the serene sky above us. We’ve both inflicted pain no lethal whips could ever create, shed crystal clear blood no sharp knives could ever produce. We’ve planted something in the air that it stirred Amihan, deity of the universe, and gave us storms and absence.

This is a revelation, a defeated but accepted testimony that no grudges and hatred should go beyond the twelfth number of the clock, the brimming knowledge of the old wise man, or the final phase of the moon. The ropes have been stretched to the limit of breaking and there’s no certainty when this tug or pull would stop. But maybe it’s already broken, cut in half, since this gridlock of emotions has come to this point.

What is this point? I don’t know. Maybe the claim of living the lifestyle of gloom and obscurity is right; I have been heavily shrouded with thoughts of revenge and contempt only the silence of my hollowed being can console. Silence is treacherous—she either comforts the wary or wakes the dark duwende of the recluse. Unfortunately, the wheel of time has made her to wreak havoc on me.

I try to make use of this advantage, or perhaps disadvantage, and scramble for some mending tool in the darkness of silence. But there’s nothing to retrieve in silence; only the constant drone of the myths, assumptions, and even lies. It is just hard because the reptilian monster of cowardice in the dim corner always makes the knight shiver in fright. That is why chaos is inevitable, or is regretfully achieved, because silence is the only sound one can hear in solitude. The only sound I have heard. So, pardon me.

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