ayoko!

Ayoko sanang isipin. Uuwi rin ako pero hindi ko pa alam kung kelan.

Siguro kung magkakalakas ng loob…pag itinulak ng pagkakataon… sa isang buwan o kahit bukas.

-Noel

MacArthur, Bob Ong

in 10s

I lighted another one… your favorite brand in 10s… passing the time inside my box staring at the wall not allowing the wall to stare back at me. I had read somewhere that this, what I’m holding now stimulates thinking. True because what came rushing to my mind are nicotined ideas. The white silky thing whirled before me like counter-currents of a river. Spherical like our cosmos. Swift translucent streams, gauzy then gone… unlike your memories… unlike time.

If time is a straight path, as the present moves along into the future, the pasts gets longer and the future shorter. In which chasm are you? Lingering in my pasts of unfading long memory or waiting in my future for a transitory encounter? I’d like to think that time is circular, the past and the future infinite and equal. By hands of fate, my circular time overlapped in some points in yours. How and why did we cross each other? I have to go through that I can have you for a time but not for my lifetime. So sad that while I have you I can’t let it be known to the world.

I am revering in 10s now… like the way we enjoyed the intensity of our little getaways then. It was a secret we kept; careful no one would discover the little adventures we had. The thrill was like the anticipation of a first kiss on a first date… like the first taste of cheating on an exam. There was a feeling of guilt and freedom and something else hard to describe.

I lifted an excerpt from a borrowed book “The Book of Loss”.

It was like the imperial jewel which lies concealed within its casket, its shapes and colors indeterminate yet its power all the greater because of its vagueness. No one is allowed to see it for doing so would rob its beauty. Closed and conceal, it is pearl, jade or ruby; revealed it is neither one of these. Even the legends one hears about it are imprecise. No words or metaphors suffice for each its own limitation. So our love is known only for itself. It exists in the dark and even we who make it know it incompletely. We call it one thing and it becomes another. It eludes our sight and touch yet it persists.

We don’t have the freedom to let the world know yet in our confined plane we are boundless. The world will never understand this unlikely union; maybe fate will be kinder the next time around.

(note: Ang loveletter na ito ay nagbabalat-kayong loveletter)