The Weatherman

Tonight, I have shed rain -- inadvertently, incessantly and indifferently. It has flowed like torrents that my breathing has alternately cracked and faltered. I have never had an outpouring since that time too olden to be remembered.

Yet, with the shade that has sustained its hold and has then altered my perceived frailty, my ducts have slowly cleared.

Your presence -- undeniable and never really gone -- has tamed the nimbus.

The rain has stopped.

Finally, clear skies are upon us.
Once again....
Once again.

Stuck

I miss the apathy.
The chaos.
The speed.
The insomnia.

I miss you, Manila.

I miss your pain.

But, I need to miss you more.

Hemorrhage

My heart is great.
It beats drums.
It pumps crimson.
And it breathes elixir.

My heart is mighty.
It is skinned with metal.
It is nailed with steel.
And it is grounded with gold.

It is beauty.

It is mine and I have given it to you.
Wholeheartedly.

Yet, yet, this thing...
Its beat deafens.
Its pump overflows.
Its breathing halts.
Its skin rusts.
Its nails loosen.
Its ground mutilates.
Its beauty fades.

And it pains like crazy.

Secret Garden

Haze.
Smoke.
Dimness.
Darkness.
Pitch black.

Then, a beat.
A thump.
A whisper.
A spoken word.
A glimmer.

With every sound, the littlest of the light grows and glows.
The music illuminating stalls my withering.
My roots dig the ground farther and my leaves possess the air wider.
Keep me moist, keep me breathing, keep me alive.
Keep me loved. Keep me loving.

ONE.

It takes:
a second to look;
a minute to risk a second glance;
an hour to assess further;
a day to decide;
a week to say the three words;
a month to make sure you aren't joking; and
a YEAR to finally affirm that from the very first moment until indefiniteness, you're right -- and yes, I am right.

I'll say these words once again for there has never been time when I was ashamed to do so -- and there never will be: I love YOU, still and always.

Human

I am completely aware that some people don't like me.

And I am completely aware that some people don't like the other, either.

Almost a year ago, a bond I forged (and still dearly hold today) with the other resembled that of an opened Pandora's Box. Many from both sides elicited varied reactions that we were petrified for alternate moments, seemingly clueless of the gravity of our once "harmless" relationship.

Indeed, humans will be humans. There is no feasible way of pleasing anyone with any single or collective move -- no matter how we painstakingly try. There will always be pride and prejudice (Jane Austen, anyone?).

But, what could we do? We have stronger hearts. So, we moved on -- surrounded by whispers too loud to mock the disguised silence, and by stares that shame even the lingering smell of unwanted air in an enclosed room.

Now -- though the whispers have allied in part with the walls, and the stares have adapted with the sight they once were incredibly amazed with -- humanity and its imperfections remain open for exhibition and lashing.

I believe that no man is completely the same with another precisely because conflict is one inevitable earthly activity. Conflict brings life to life itself. Conflicts make us think, make us greater and make us better -- even if these conflicts be of silent wars and of unintentionally cold ones.

If I be allowed to, may I ask: must love -- that "simple four-letter word" be always made complicated and restrained when the only premise for social ranting is the fact that the parties composing it aren't the ones "we" are used to seeing -- and believing?

Borderline

No matter how blurry one's sight is and no matter how persistent his legs are rooted in someone's ground... either rain, storm or sanity may take down the smog and soften the soil. Another, another... another -- more illuminated and deserved -- may be its unintentional offspring.