A Taste of Freedom

What is freedom?

I wont mention its Theasaurus definition, nor its dictionary meaning. I want you to describe it based on your own perception, definition, standards, or simply as you are. When I was a child, freedom to me is running down the green meadows near just near my Lola's house, or splashing waters over the silent streams, waking up its afternoon slumber, or climbing up the strong arms of the mighty mango trees. Freedom, as a child, means the absence of a guardian or a parent. I could play all I want, all day and anything. It is as sweet as the candy over that store, as joyful as the breeze I felt on my face as I came down running along the white lines of our nearby shores.

When I grew up, giving up the childish ways, freedom could mean no curfews, buying all that fashion jeans over that mall, going to bars, or places I like, drinking those fancy drinks with weird tastes, without feeling any guilt. But all it means is doing things that makes you happy even for very short moments.

Yesterday, June 30, is my last day of a particular contract with NSP. An invisble heavy feeling

seems to be lifted from me. An expected joy emerged. A birth of new plan.

Freedom means no bounds, freedom is the joy of making choices of your own.

Freedom is simply being just you.

In Your Hands

In Your Hands
my life is Silence

existing and yet nothing

untouchable but is vulnerable

by Your Breathing

In Your Hands

my life is forgettable

a drop of rain

Caught from the air

In a storm

In Your Hands

my life, at peace

a loyal dying soldier

for his King

Pacquiao, the Boxing Hero, wins by KO

The headline of the June 28th showdown between the WBC Lightweight Champion of the World David Diaz, and the current Super Featherweight Champion of the world, Manny Pacquiao.

But after the fight, the ever agile, enduring, tough Filipino fighter won over the western competitor. I could hear the celebrations, cheers, and shout of joys from his Filipino fans as their Hero emerged from the battle ... victorious.

In this time of crisis, famine, and hopelessness to emerged from severe poverty, the Filipino people, unconciously, is looking for a Hero that would soon deliver them. They hunger for Heroes who are able, capable, and responsible enough to fight for them. And this time of need they saw Pacquiao. One who could represent the country, but, sadly, only in the field of boxing. Not in the realm of leadership, wisdom, and determination.

If only someone from the leaders of the country has these qualities. Or If only Pacquiao has.
He may not be our National Hero, but, in some perspective, he sure looks like though.

Love is like waiting for a taxi

Love is like waiting for a taxi.

It is not that there are no taxis passing by,

It is just that you can't seem

to find one that is vacant.

This could be what is most irritating;

When you think that if you go
to that street corner over there, you might find one.

But as soon as you walk away,

a vacant taxi comes and is taken by someone else.

Even if you stay put in one place and wait,

a vacant taxi doesn't come.

Even if you go around and search for one,

it doesn't come.

And If it doesn't come, it doesn't come.

No, sometimes that's not it,

Because there are really people

who seem to have less luck on getting a taxi.

Sometimes as soon as

you give up and start

to walk away,

suddenly a lot of taxis come.

The question is,

how long will you stand and wait for a taxi.

---

an excerpt translation from Rachel Alfafara

Intrude

intrude

so brief your soft lips touches me
to yearn it all throughout eternity
short are the moments you hold my hands
yet, in my soul, you are intruding me

to hold on is a drop of tormented will
but my passion roars deep behind my words
Even in clouded eyes i watch you fly away
still i speak not with the words i longed to say

as the clouds engulf you in their arms
i just wish i'd been born with wings
instead with this monolith of regrets

--