LIBRARY

The Valley

2010-07-23T03:01:00.000-07:00

There is a world that none have broached

though countless have, so near, approached,

wading through raging rivers deep

on whose bed as countless laid down to sleep

in fatigue of the body and of the mind

that started to unravel and unwind,

screaming to that ever-unreachable bank,

succumbing to the water as their sights went blank

and seeking the guidance of an uncaring firmament

with their faith broken and efforts all spent

though a few trudged back down the path they came

none the worse for wear but never the same

for having left untouched that elusive glen

that so teasingly reveals itself to men

only to shy away as one draws near

as prey from its predator, in mortal fear.

Alas! For the futility that here is wrapped

that all human efforts be unconditionally sapped;

I struggle to pen a descriptive word

but that barrier, that river, I cannot fjord.

Laundry Suds

2008-09-28T07:34:00.000-07:00

Come, little children. Let me tell you a story.

Let me tell you about the rivers back home

where we wash, bathe and even quench our thirst;

They said pipe water cannot reach our barrio.

Come, little children. Let me tell you a story.

Let me scare you with aswangs, mumo and kapres.

Your mother chides me to stop weaving tall tales;

My father's an albularyo, my mother's a mangkukulam.

Come, little children. Let me tell you a story.

Let me tell you about the okra and the camote,

because to have rice is a feast we cannot afford.

That is why I went to the city and, eventually, here.

Come, little children. Let me tell you a story.

Let me tell you about filthy, muddy unclothed kids,

of crying hungry mouths and illiterate morons,

of my own children I had left back home.

Sunken Garden Sunset

2008-09-28T07:31:00.000-07:00

A vast expanse of sky and space,

ever spiralling deep within,

on leaded grass, the moonlight shines

and shows what will be, and what was.

Night approaches, darkness settles;

city noises reach crescendo.

As the degrees drop, and then dive

So movement shatters and subsides.

A blanket of soot beneath dew

descends from high: an empty place.

The glowing embers dying west;

at the north side is freezing mud.

Red points yonder among the clouds

brace a tower lest it should fall.

The deep thrummings of passing crafts

Now echo, and then re-echo.

Pollen flies where only winds know,

I breathe you in and let you go.

The Little Puff

2008-09-28T07:24:00.001-07:00

To the North Wind: I hope you know who you are.

Once there was a little puff, born by a little geyser atop a little island. It knew nothing of the world above, for it had been sleeping before the earth sneezed it out.

The North wind happened to be passing by and saw the little puff abruptly expelled into the air. He gently caught the little puff lest it fall to the ground. "Come with me," said the North wind . "And we shall play with the forest." The North wind and the little puff went to the woods, played with the elves and danced with the faeries there.

"Hold my hand," said the North wind. "And we shall play with the humans." The North wind and the little puff flew to the cities, blew sheets of paper and held kites airborne.

"Ride on my back," said the North wind. "And we shall play with the ocean." The North wind and the little puff blew across the waters, bathed in spray and stirred the waves.

"Hold on tight," said the North wind. "And we shall play with the gods." The North wind and the little puff soared higher, past the sea, past the trees and past the kites.

"Are we there yet?" said the little puff.

"No, not yet," said the North wind.

They climbed onwards, past the birds, past the mountains and past the clouds.

"Are we there yet?" said the little puff.

"No, not yet," said the North wind.

They climbed as high as the eye can reach, then higher than that, then higher than both of those.

"Are we there yet?" said the little puff.

"No, not yet," said the North wind.

The little puff was getting impatient at the way the North wind lumbered about. He loosened his grasp and began to fly on his own. He was, no doubt, much lighter and much faster than the North wind. As he flew higher, he felt his light and agile body beginning to dissipate. As he flew higher still, he felt his feathers thinning. As he flew his highest, he could hold his body no more and he floated back down to earth in a million wisps, cold and lifeless.

For he is, after all, just a little puff.

Nostalgia and Grandeur

2008-09-28T07:13:00.000-07:00

The lady of the night walks by

in a rain-drenched silver gown.

Her bare feet stirs the puddles;

Her black hair combs the mist.

She walks upon the cobbled streets,

through long and winding alleys.

She lifts her gaze to find the stars

but the sky was overcast.

She peers into the window panes,

and warms her numb fingertips.

She rests her hands upon the sill

and let her tired eyelids drop.

The people are drinking merry.

They ate with silver spoons.

The cat sleeps by the fireplace,

while children stroked its fur.

Outside a trembling lady stares

and leans upon the frozen glass,

contented with the little warmth

against the frigid wind blast,

But one day, she had gone too far

she feebly knocked upon the door.

It opened wide before her eyes

and bid her come inside.

And lo, exactly like it was before,

she found an empty ashen space

No ceiling there could she behold

amidst the burnt and crumbling walls.

Once more, her black eyes awaken

to the cold and harsh reality.

The rain pours down; she walks alone

upon the war-torn cobbled streets.

New Moon

2008-09-28T07:11:00.001-07:00

Three creatures howled to an empty moon;

each inconsolable seeking solace.

The dryads in the woods echoed their sorrow.

The banshees by the lake screamed their regret.

The bearer of honor sighed mournfully.

He was a mere pawn in the grand design.

Should he perish, everything else will fail

thus, his repose, he was unfortunately denied.

The bearer of wisdom sat down in dejection.

His call across the ether had gone unheeded.

His days of glory now long gone in the past,

he could weave spells no more, nor elements, forge.

The bearer of thievery had fallen down

far lower than his stealthy crimes.

There was the nausea that he was being watched.

There was fear of an inevitable retribution.

Each had dropped on his knees to pray,

beseeching his own silent, unmoving god.

Yet no disappointment surpassed their own

as no miracle or blessing descended upon them.

For what is honor when one is defeated?

For what is wisdom where all else is deaf?

For what is celerity when bound to the pillory?

For what is a hope raised only to be crushed?

Three creatures howled to an empty sky,

overcast, at a light that was never there.

Kaminari

2008-09-28T06:58:00.001-07:00

I am waiting. I long to be free.

It was before history when the first humans were forged, I among them. The overjoyed gods endowed us with gifts that the succeeding generations could only dream of. Each of our creators gave us a part of themselves, each part as powerful as the whole, that we may serve them without flaw.

For years I have served them faithfully, yet fleeting moments found me feeling disturbed, thinking how wrong it all was. I knew that I could fashion a world better than this one: a world driven not by the gods but by power.

However, overthrowing my creators would need strength far greater than theirs. In the years that followed, I succeeded in killing and stealing power from my brethren, the first humans. My trail left nothing more than weak and unknowing mortals.

At last, in a cataclysmic battle, I emerged victorious. Unfortunately, the sky gods, in desperation, sealed me away. Their cumulative strength banished me, yet, their exertions also proved to be too much for them; they could no longer sustain their divine forms.

As I had expected, the seal of the sky gods soon began to weaken. It will only be a matter of time before I overpower the remaining gods. If you ever see a streak of lightning, then, in the world beyond that brilliant radiance, you will see my vengeful form. And if you ever heard the thunder, you heard the gods weakly, but hastily closing the gate.

Hinata

2008-09-28T06:55:00.000-07:00

You entered my life by accident.

You disturbed my peaceful sorrow.

One day, you fell from the sky

and you hit me on the head.

I liked you because of your sunny smile.

I liked you because you are cute.

I liked you because you are fun to be with

and because you were so warm.

It started simple and innocent enough.

I had it all planned out.

Sometime somewhere, something went wrong

and I found I fell for you.

I fell, hard. I loved you, or did I?

It's not pure lust yet not true love.

I have always wanted to be by your side

but now I forgot and I don't know why.

I patiently wait in painful silence

But who am I to hold your love?

A kanji without meaning.

A dirge without audience.

A lantern without darkness.

A pyramid without limestone.

I long for the day you'll see me

with eyes not half-lidded but open.

I know I will only break once more

yet why am I still here, waiting?

Gone

2008-09-28T06:50:00.001-07:00

your hot breath wafted on my neck in the midst of a fitful slumber

I opened my eyes and saw the invisible nothing that had been here since...

the pain hurts so, not unlike acid burrowing too deep to take out

yet quite short of numbing me into deep peaceful unconsciousness

Hear me, O, moon goddess and take now my life.

Spare me, I beseech the, from this mortal strife.

teary-eyed i leaned back as fluid ice seeped into me as a glacier would

copper drops tainted what would have been clear rippling crystal

the metallic sting of the incision that had been mere seconds before

along with all my thoughts, my turmoil, now subside, now subdued

i long to see what changes you have been through after...

but i guess you would very much rather not have me nor have me know

as i fall into the dark and unexplored abyss of dreams, surging and ebbing

i wish i only knew, though i know i will not, where did you go,

now that I'm gone?

Circus

2008-09-28T06:37:00.000-07:00

I found myself staring

down a long cobbled way.

I saw heads and bodies

array upon array.

The clowns just dance onward

ceaseless ministrations.

Their grimaces contort

in grim deathly fashions.

The jugglers carry on.

Their daggers cut the air,

their fingers combing for

all that was never there.

The dancers pass me by.

Their slim bodies glide through

the wind that still haunts them

of things that they once knew.

The mimes are always there,

speechless, they are asking

their questions nobody

has bothered answering.

The ringmaster rises

and forces forth a smile.

His dreams, for the meantime,

must slumber for a while.

And thus I awaken

and thus I comprehend

my duties that pierce me,

my emotions that rend.

Blue Moon

2008-09-28T06:15:00.000-07:00

Brightest moon and silver mist

and Wolf's howl among the trees

saw the way you smiled at me,

unlocked my chains and set me free.

Waning moon and silver clouds

divided souls one starless night.

The cold will settle not for long

as daylight rises every morn.

Resting moon and silver stars

were lit by fires and shaman trance.

I felt your lips silence my words;

no words broke the quiet spell.

Waxing moon and silver rains

heralded the dark horizon.

Although the hunter warmly sleeps,

the halcyon flew and sought refuge.

Blue moon and silver morning

I woke up to an empty bed.

Tears too frozen to fall to Earth

stood quite still and sat unmoved.

Between Pages

2008-08-17T08:29:00.000-07:00

We are here. Waiting. And waiting still.

Sometimes, we show ourselves to you at daybreak, but you rarely notice. You think you know us, enough to completely ignore us. We know our gaseous bodies are not sufficient to summon your interest. We cannot affect your life, even though you control ours. But you do not see that now, do you? You do not see that we are dreams left unfulfilled. You do not see that we have been created but left unrealized. You are like the rest of them; your eyes perceive only the superficial. You think we are nothing more than water hanging in the chilly air.

We cannot fully blame you. We are unknown to you humans because we inhabit a realm of darkness. Our world is quite similar, yet at the same time, quite opposite yours. Despite this, our worlds are quite accessible to each other. Thus, you have been conquering our domain; at least, that is what we think. You are a threat to us, yet we cannot do anything much about it. But you cannot feel that could you? How could you know our presence when you barely notice us?

It is not our wish to remain hiding in the dark forever; we also wish to see the light. However, we do not have much of a choice. Exposure to any light brighter than the full moon kills us. We must hide from the daylight, otherwise we die. At morning, you can find us trembling between the pages of books, under heavy boxes and inside sewer lines. At night we fly free and content ourselves by looking at the stars. Sometimes, when we are lucky, we see the moon. This we do until dawn breaks again.

This cycle we have faithfully kept for millennia. Those who violate it die a slow and painful death. They can feel their bodies slowly evaporating into nothingness. Yet, somehow, I envy them. They have seen the sun, even though it cost them their lives.

At first it was just the sun, but now a new threat had risen to harass us even more. This thing you call technology may be helping you a lot. Yet in the wrong hands, it can eliminate the rest of my brethren. Your halogen street lamps are a hundredfold more searing than the light of the full moon. Your cities have become too warm for us to fly through. The winds you blow during the day are now laden with particles that course through our innards and cause our demise.

I never really wanted to die, but if I did, I wanted it to be by daylight. Not like this.

We are powerless. Our voices are too feeble for your ears. Sometimes, though, one of you would hear us and welcome us in their arms. Sometimes, a child sees us and smiles. Sometimes, we become real. Only you humans can make us real enough for us to stand the sunlight. Thus we are given a choice. We can stay here, waiting for death to come by and say hello. Or we can stay here and wait for one of you to bring us to life. Can you help us?

Now that you know who we are, it does not have to take much effort to listen. You can start by parting the curtains. Or by reminding yourself, every time you see us, that we are more than just the morning mist.