Long-winded

Path

Every ticking of the clock is a reminder of a force that has kept us going.

We passed through a tunnel filled with empty darkness. Glinting mysteries and austere fantasies gave color to the pale ambiance of our transcendent venture for solace and silence. We hoped. We hoped because that’s what we do when we see nothing. We also tried. We tried to wriggle against the molder which was formed by the jagged edges of our solitary pasts. Many things obstructed our view of the blazing light at the end of the tunnel.

Now that we’re here, shining and smiling, may we look back to the path we walked through. Please know that we am proud. We are proud not only of our good moments which formed memories. We are proud of all the moments when we had to fight hard for our destiny, these formed our lessons. And these memories and lessons make us who we are today.

12366642_939148532830836_1361210282_n
Photo by Jasmin Claire

As another path unfolds, may we value the pain of yesterday and use it in alleviating the pain of others. Give love because that’s what people do, we give and we love. Let go of all the things which we don’t have any hold of because that’s what we’ll all do in the end. Hold on because there’s a lot of things which are meant for all of us, we just have to have enough courage to hold on on to them. If something is for us, nothing can take it away.

All of our paths are challenging. We have to push a boulder with an injured hand because even before we see that boulder a tree has already fallen over our thirsty bodies. Paths are long-winded. But I know that each person’s path is yearning for the only man who will spend his time to enjoy the journey it has to offer.

We should never abandon our destiny. Never.

 

Advertisements

Painted Cloth

Anticipation

When my mind becomes clouded by your face, by the way your eyes glow, by the sound of your laugh, by the feeling of your head leaning on my shoulders; my heart does somersaults. It goes to the pit of my stomach then it tumbles back and forth inside my soul. I know it’s dangerous. But instead of running away from the abyss of loving you, I move towards it further. I don’t know why.

Since that day, I often find myself closing my eyes while I lay on my bed. That’s the only time when things in life become clear. What I see is the ravishing images of the things you do to me and of the things I want to do with you. They’re clear – the dropping of my heart, the joy of my soul, the elation I feel whenever we’re together. I don’t think I could ever put them into oblivion. Behind those images is the empty cloth of my life; it’s painted in black. And I know you saw the wholeness of the cloth – the holes from all the bullets that went through it, the patches I put as I tried to make myself whole, the streaks of my nails

img_20161202_161209
Artwork Exhibited at Porta Vaga Mall

when I got so frustrated trying to make the cloth straight. You saw all of it. You stared at it and I was shaking because I knew that you’ll leave. And yet, you never did. You didn’t even try to turn your back just so you could come back. You just stayed there as if there was something pleasing to witness. You stayed and you didn’t have a doubt; I’d know if you had doubts. You didn’t. I love it when people disappoint me. It makes me believe that there’s always more to someone. My shaking stopped and then I stared at you. I’m finally here, at the moment I’ve been longing to live. The moment when I am very certain of what I really want. The moment when I found out that “what” has always meant you. I want to be with you.

I’m glad. Now, I just want to wrap you with all I am. Let go of you for some time then go back to wrapping you. I am afraid I might strangle you so just tell me, I’ll loosen my hold. But I really have no idea about the right way of loving you so yes, I know I’ll make mistakes. Forgive me for loving you in my own terms.

You’re here and the cloth appears again. The images have changed. I don’t see you staring at the cloth. I don’t see myself shaking. I see the both of us. The cloth illuminated. We are sitting together and I’m pointing at the holes as I tell you the story of how she left. You are holding my hand, telling me that it’s gone. The holes became passages of the light. I realized that the cloth didn’t illuminate,

we do.

 

Incredibly Painful

H2O

There is something incredible

In the way the stars make people admire

A heartbreak that shakes the deepest core

Of a dismantled body of flesh and bones

In the way the sky precipitates

A condensed feeling of emptiness

Because of someone’s evaporation

In the way the sun pushes the back

A fragmented person has structured

In such a way that it’s too broken

To break again

 

12305957_1661245007454769_2048960747_n (1)
Artwork during an Exhibit at Baguio City

 

There is something painful

In the beauty of every tingle

That someone’s grip can cause

It leaves a mark of the person’s fingerprints

In the corners of your frail body

Scratches and wounds start thriving

You feel them, and you’re tender towards them

In the way we take care of the things

Which broke us beyond repair

For no other reason than the person

Who left us scarred

 

There is something incredibly painful

In knowing that people go

Always and always, people go

Sure, it will hurt like the way

A hot water burns the tip of your tongue

It lasts for days and with every passing day

You know that you’ve been burnt

Because even when you no longer drink the hot water

The tongue, with everything it tastes, remembers

The way, every way, its own way

Of sticking itself out just so it can feel

The fluidity of every atom in the particle

But just like the tongue, we become healed

After some time

There is something incredibly painful

Words Fail

New Horizon

Do you ever just love someone?

And when I say love, I don’t mean you want to kiss that someone. Love means you choose to kiss that someone’s lips and soul until you taste the blood of his veins then you kiss him deeper.

And when I say love, I don’t mean you want to hold his hand. Love means you choose to hold his hand, intertwine your fingers, and never let go until your hands become rough because you worked hard in sculpting each other’s faces in your memories.

And when I say love, I don’t mean you want to talk to him. Love means you choose to talk with him; you listen because words are engraved in our hearts and you value what he has to say because somewhere between the lines are underlying stories of who he is.

And when I say love, I don’t mean you want to go out with him. Love means you choose to go out with him because you think that time should be spent on people who are worthy to share your life with and he’s one of those people for you.

And when I say love, I don’t mean you want to make memories together. Love means you choose to make memories with him and no matter how hard the world tries to make the memories fade, you don’t let it happen; you choose to hold on to what you have gone through with him.

And when I say love, I don’t mean you want to support him in his journey. Love means you choose to support him and you stand by him, despite the failure and success, because you have a clear understanding of who you love and it’s him, not his possessions.

And when I say love, I don’t mean you want to be with him. Love means you choose to be with him every single day, and the day can be good or bad but you don’t care because a day means being with him and that single fact makes everything bearable and fine.

And when I say love, I don’t only mean any of this. Love means having no words to explain just how much you mean to me and how much you make me ache inside. So no, I don’t think I just love someone. It’s more than love. It will always be more than love and forgive me for not having the words to encompass all these.

img_20161202_161007
Artwork during an Exhibit at Porta Vaga Mall