The dawning sun tinges our deathly pale countenance.

Suddenly, we seem so alive, kinda happier somehow,

The cobwebs, dense thickets of brokenness feel distant.

Away from Yesterday’s snake eyes, ours is us and Now.

We’ve gone far to where Guilt won’t get any entry pass,

Where no shadows of shame nor judgment could stand.

Here, perhaps, we could color the hills, valleys, and sun,

Free from the dictates of the virtuous, codex, nor gods.

Something about abandonment is incoherently human.

Our taking unknown paths, choosing to live as we like,

Such that darkness nor death has no noose around us—

How the Universe spins and stirs shall now be up to us.

In March, underneath the warm canopy of Manila sun,

We lingered in silence ’til you said, “My heart’s in a bind.”

Basked in the sunbeams of youth, blank pages of desires—

The strangle of unspoken words was suffocating by and by.

Between us were words sans sounds but shared and alive:

Silhouettes of fallible souls and skeletons of feeble minds—

Secrets of love and ire, of joy and cry, of truths and lies—

“Guess it’s time to feed them all into the balefire,” you cried.

And now, cocooned in cool spring and Matsuyama sun,

My mind still streams in what if’s tho’ years have passed.

Had we not worried of hell nor the heat of Manila Sun,

gods?

I feel free and so alive upon the zenith of the hills,

But I also feel so alone and lost amidst the idylls.

Between the russet skies, the earth—I am vanishing

In my own diminished sense of belonging and being.

Sometimes, I wonder if I made the best choice,

To leave behind a well-rehearsed life and voice—

But I also know, beyond the unknown, I must go

To weave wings and start anew with a fresh voice.

Someday, I trust the Maker shall carry me Home,

Unburdened of the broken jars and jarred bones,

Of dreams ought to become—the Designer’s mold.

But for now, I shall savor the sunset, the hill songs.