Sunday, September 12, 2010

Autumn Fireflies - Part 2

Chasing the Sun...

Searching through, treading where the leaves have come thicker by the number, the idea of this scribbling came to me like dust settling on my pad as filters of thought would on top of some barely used appliance....
I fell silent in awe and delight of the many splendid colors that spraye in my  midst! the magnificent variety--and now they're coming to me like the crimson sun's caressing touch on the rock face of the earthen sphere!
I am not a good conversationalist; I often bring the indulgence of sharing thoughts to a calm surrender, and in the stillness and the silence, let divine thoughts play most freely, despising the need for a mesh of words. But vindications of thoughts are simply in great paradoxes! For eyes are not without a shade of disbelief from spiritual enlightenment over the true countenance of life. 
We are all but particular substances: elemental passions trapped within the magnificent test tubes of the Great Scientist. I know I am not to be saved from this cleavage of burden and choice; for, weighing what is proper to me, my academics in the observing world, I felt, have branded me with tags pricing with brilliant judgment what they outrightly claim I posess, while all my other seemingly natural occurrences, they have carefully appraised as mere sediments of stone and sand.
 Yet, I do contend The Pen has to bleed, to purge, The Dream, and The Words, that in the humdrum of inexperience are being deliberated whether to be pursued and sustained or, be detested and deleted yet fittingly are disposed again on the deck to draw upon in time.
I entered through a door that has been opened for quite sometime before me, half-knowing what is there to find once I've crossed the line.
I wonder, how, the virtues of fortune allow this frail cruiser to escapade at sea! I have trod along this path with the sinceres and purest intentions that I have, duty-bound to the fulfillment of some romantic visions, which to many, are but wild and crazy dreams. My hands led me here, when my feet were starting to feel numb already....
I felt a powerful presence... then, there was a silence that proved a voice was harkening in my midst. It told me, "You must quit holding back...You must set off and let the world know you are alive. even when being different could mean to be at odds with the world, you must be firm in your stance. Else, you will suffer for the desires that you would have given to your heart if not for the sake of compromising what you want...
"You must be patient. You must not cease the search, even when in wait; the next ride of your life could pass you by ina  moment's bliss..."
Then I met My Stranger. As our eyes met, it seemed like I was looking down a well which is so much delighted in showing me all the things that have been for ages been rambling in my brain, only they were in better visual order. 
It evoked something in me--an explorable field of feelings. I wanted to shrink down to the minutest particle of atom at such a confontation, or perhaps, evaporate fast before the cork is screwed above me, as if I were the most volatile thing there is. But my subdivisions have become chillingly frozen, only slowly melting like ice cream on the lips of such a cute child. A consummate strangeness smoothly traced the wilderness of my repulsive sense. My time halted.
Then again, My Stranger uttered words that to this day echo when the world embraces the fluid darkness of the night.... Thoughts and words continue to flow from the delicate bottle of unadulterated substance inebriating into the reams of extracted flesh, as the theses of The Pen continue the honesty of their own issuance and edition.
I've been long lost in my wandering; but I now know, an no longer as alone in my feat. My Stranger, I must recognize, has become my most familiar ally, and by the break of dawn, we shall meet some more who might be with us, to walk with us through the pages of history and time amidst the rage of oblivion and suffering, to make manifest the virtues of The Pen, in this ancient quest of the land's true youth.
As with the fireflies that chase the sun at twilight, so are we to dare seize the day beneath the moon's cradling calm....
*** ***** *** *** ****** ** * ********** **** *****
Repolles, Goldimyrr B. "The Fireflies in Autumn."
Legazpi City, Philippines. Copyright August 2004.

No comments:

........i'm just another writer still trapped within my truth........

i have forgotten about what it is to write...
to catch that in-between the silence and the heart’s beating…
and go about that divide which separates shadow from the ground…
Writing, my first love!
and so, i write. répondez s’il vous plaît.

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kun pa'no mahagilap an uya sa tahao kan kasilenciohan asin pag-ibot kan puso...
buda malakop iyan na nagbabanga sa anino asin daga...

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biyo logod, ako minasurat. magsimbag ka.

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