Agape

I’d let Myself shatter into million possible pieces; burst out and partake My ashes to be lunar dust—be fragments of the moon to light your way back. My ruination; your completion.

***

Once , we try to be heartless,
But even with our utmost power;
We failed.
We always end up loving.
And maybe that’s the sole
purpose we serve—
To love,
To always love;
even the hardest,
the difficult,
the denial.

“Love like Me.” said He

***

He’s the air in my lungs;
And the word in my tongue;
He’s every chapter of my favorite book;
He flattens my edges that were crooked;
I was the lost piece;
Longing for direction;
He led me back to my completion;
He’s my destination.

He

He is;

my first dauntless step,

away from the comfort

of the four-cornered cage;

yet

He is, as well

my favorite

looking back bend

–over and over,

over

and

over

He is;

a beautiful adventure,

that makes me

want to try;

yet

He is, also

the smell of my bed

where I find rest,

eraser of cries

and they said;

soul

tend to

follow the

path

to its

haven

“Lead me

Lord,

You

are

my

Home”

 

Intersecting Point

i saw you looking
heavenwards,
tracing your fingers to the sky,
spellbound
with the whole scenario,
but;
there was
something missing.
your eyes
they have no shimmer.

i want to
refurbish the radiance
but you were seemingly drifting,
into an infinite galaxy,
into a black hole of thoughts.

i whispered,
i prayed,
that you’d look past
the constellations
you were trying to make
‘cause the One behind those stars
is making the ‘you’
that will outshine
the battle within you.

“meet Him at the intersecting point of you and the stars.”

 

Paradise

I dreamt of you last night. You were looking somewhere. Your eyes were glistening. Your eyes couldn’t contain much of the galaxy that desiring to surge out. You were greatly devoured by something splendid, something delightful. Your soul was glistening with hues of rainbows and sparkling dust. Then I tried to take a stride, to be nearby. But, I failed, as my body felt the crystal wall. Out of my ware, I beaten it with all my strength, trust me that I tried, struggling my way towards you, while you were there, standing and spellbound with the exquisiteness of everything. “That is not your paradise my dear.” I heard a voice, a Manly voice. The familiarity of it made me feel the serenity that I was yearning for, the calmness that has long vanished when you gave nothing but insanely beats. “But…” I was about to protest. “Here is where you should be. Trust me.” It was painful, but hearing the words from Him mended the gashes that were about to be molded. My gaze traveled back to the other side of the crystal wall, and you were there. Not minding the other part of where you were, the portion where I was in.

I dreamt of you last night. You were looking somewhere. Your eyes were sparkling. But those glimmers weren’t made for me. “You are not my paradise.”

Berso;

#1

When the world I made stops gyrating

And my core stops screaming

I will straightly look at you

Desiring;

Praying

–that I’m no longer aching

#2

Mapaghangad ba ‘kong iisipin?

Dalanging ang bawat berso ng awit mo’y para sa akin

Masyado bang mapag-angkin?

Kung patuloy na hihiligin;

–ang pagkatok mo’t pagdating

#3

My metamorphosis

Was by your smile;

Those curves, I seize

In my heart, it fits

#4

You weren’t made to fill my gaps

Seeing you with someone else, I lost my gasps

You weren’t made for my grasps

I don’t have mask

Oh you;

Lethal gas

#5

Minamanipula ako ng ‘yong mga tawa

May kung anong kirot, parang pagtama ng bala

Kung pwede lang hulihin ang pagsulyap, sige ako na ang may sala

Ikaw lang kasi;

Ang paborito kong hiwaga

Endless

she wants to stop her car

to fetch him out of that

seemingly endless road;

he was standing

under the cosmic nightly skies,

gravely searching for something

maybe unlustrous stars–

ones that longing for home

to furbish their gleams;

in his tee was faded dirt

in his eyes were tears

sluggishly falling

his arms were unhurriedly failing

–failing to protect everything

cause he also needed saving

–breathing;

she was about to open the car door,

when she saw Someone walked near him,

the familiarity of this Man

feels like comfort

feels like home;

she heaves a sigh,

a calmed one;

her hands started igniting the engine,

certain to move forward

cause he was now found,

by the One who also found her;

“Soon enough, the seemingly endless road would be over.”

She uttered.

BRONTIDE

Brontide
(n) a low rumble of distant thunder
pronunciation: ‘bron-tld (brawn-tide)

—I am the thunder. And these are my brontides.

***

Out of my ware, every single day, I keep falling for this man—someone whose heart belongs to someone else—someone who I shouldn’t grasp the notion of being with.  He’s gentle, so sweet and a man of chivalry. No one can purposely ignore that. In this universe of parading one’s self, he’s a man of humility. I, with my utmost power, tried my very best to ignore the heartbeats but, I, I failed. And I, I fell.

***

Yours is the face

That light up my days

It showed me the way

It blew me away

Away from my fears

And all of my tears

Far from despair

And what I can’t bear

Only closer

Closer to Your care

***

And when it’s time; you must learn to let go of something you’re afraid to lose.

***

She found the entry point to the labyrinth of trouble when he smiled.

***

I was told to never look at the eyes, cause those were oblivion waiting for one’s downfall. “You’ve got entrancing hazel brown eyes there.” I uttered.

***

My pen inked the sheet as my hand started strumming the strings.

Dear, the picturesque sight of your smile’s making me sing.

***

They said soulmates have resemblance with each other as for the notion that they were angels above fighting the never ending battle. Lost from the war, they were separated into two beings—blindly searching for the other half in their lifetimes. And apparently you’ve lost the battle.

The question is; would you find the other half? Before the world be consumed by sin and hatred?

***

“How have you been?”

He asked.

Here, still riding the roller coaster of confusion that I have never paid myself to be into.

“Oh, been doing good.”

***

Some people keep searching for that certain kind of love in this world, a love that can only be found on the cross.

***

Happiness isn’t about measuring the sadness of infinite galaxy to prove itself.

***

Tell me;

How would you say that you feel so empty without making people act as if you’re the saddest piece here on earth?

What it is that you will do, when the entire world need saving but no one notice you need it too?

Who are you when you are not wearing that facade, the mask that the world requires you to wear every single day?

And when home doesn’t feel like home, where would you go?

Tell me;

“Is my life another sad story?”

Rest;

There were moments in my life where I let liquefied emotions, lukewarm faith, easily burned thoughts, lightheartedness and trifling decisions ruled over. Those moments were too easy to label as everything that made me stand on the ground of this present world I am in. All the broken and irreparable pieces of what I was before could be gathered to solidify my today’s being. I don’t want to be eaten by pretense, so here’s the truth; there were moments, minutes, hours, even a fleeting second, I would feel the need to be lost. I was craving for the satisfaction to end everything that keeps on gripping my heart in such agonizing way. I would crave the need to feel numb, un-weary of the howls and cries that could be heard in the midst of a busy street and looking forward to the sound of silence in the core of oblivion and solitude. I would gratifyingly feel the need to be a lonely land, full of mysteries and quietness, full of withered flowers and brown thin branch of trees, health which the drought took. I would feel the need to be in the  darkness, letting it all surmount my space, until I could no longer breathe, until it travel its way to every part of me, to my entirety.  Even up to now; some days, I would feel the need to stop fighting, to just give up and to just let go. I would look in front of me and see how everyone’s doing fine and I am here, still behind, doing well at watching others retreat to their happiness while I am still stuck with my frowns and tears. I was once a flower, expected to jubilantly bloom under the brightly shining sun. How could I? When I was long too withered? Because the society’s says were my constant reminders that I am nothing but a failed experiment to this mutation.

Then, every time that certain need would eagerly want to overpower me, a Man would call with softness in His voice. That’s where the light came in; that was the exact moment where I would feel solid, like an indestructible piece of gem that was hardened by Him. Yet, I answered Him with doubts, and still answering Him with doubts. I thought He would leave. Just like what a lot of people did but He stayed, He stays. As for my heart keep searching restlessly, and the resonating sound of nothingness zealously ignite the desire of wanting to stop, He would gladly hold my hands and would whisper through my ears; “Do not be afraid.” Such words started touching my heart. “Be still.” He would add. “I love you.” And with those uttered words, my being would travel to the age of calmness—where there’s nothing but rest.

He is the rest.  

The Wall

And your gaze fell to the wall.

A wall where you used to write your sanity, and so was the otherwise. From 3am thoughts to 11:11 wishes; from agony to howling; from ephemeral picturesque daydream to the realistic side of everything; from the imbalance system of this world to its dysfuntional-ity. Every surface was inked by the pen—doodled out names of those who left and stayed; written songs stuck on hiatus; blabbering from various beings you once gave surreptitious parts of you; every place and every memoir of people; your late night cries; your giving up nights; your wounds; those scars. Then one day, you just woke up—on the other side of the room, there was an image of Him, patiently waiting to be seen, wanting to be an add up to your masterpiece. But you never did, ’cause you were too busy wondering: painting the other wall with sadness. Wandering: seeking for your worth in wrong places. Now, looking at the galaxy of thoughts you have created, realizing it was no longer exquisite. A sanctuary, now devastated by inkblots and misalignment. You found yourself, standing in front of that wall—a wall where you used to write everything—with a paint brush within your grasp and new set of paints beside you.

Leaving the wall.

Living, again.