Tranquill Poet

Poetry of the Tranquill (take note of the double) mind.

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Location: City of Sta. Rosa, Laguna, Philippines

A confessed Realistic Idealist. A newbie photographer. (P.S. That's my look-alike in the picture *wink*) WOW! I'm amazed you were able to chance upon my blogspot. I didn't want to publicly have my blogspot available. I blog because I want to "talk to myself". Crazy huh? Since you're here, you're welcome to read and comment on my blogs. Try to figure out what kind of person I am by reading my blogs. Get to know me through them. ;P But always remember that the whole person is a "mystery".

Thursday, December 16, 2004

Journey

Tick: You start your life’s journey
        at the rising of the sun
On the pavement you walked
        with the rhythm of your heart
The warmth falls touching your face
        tells you to move on, move on
Whispering grass, blooming of flow’rs
        greet you pleasingly, teasingly;
The thought of your destiny
        heartens you on, move on

Heat sits on its throne where he
        reigns with fire as its scepter.
Rays of power strikes its plan
        through skin so vulnerable.
As the dark shadows of the trees,
        invite you for longing refuge;
A man-sized block of wood along
        the way, prepared you your slumber.
The thought of your destiny
        quickens your footsteps, move on

Gone are the trials; threat now rules:
        though surrender was not yours.
The ground moistened by torrent rains;
        your footsteps stagger back slowly;
The dark makes you long for light...
        Decide. That you set what’s right:
The thought of destiny
        brings life to you again
The shallow foothold finds
        foundation in the core
Beat fastens as your steps
        find their way anew
Every step marking deep
        ‘til the last is held free
The battle is won now
        Out of that lurking dark

You end your life’s journey
        at the setting of the sun
On the pavement you walked
        with the rhythm of your heart
The soft touch of the sun
        inviting you to its arms

You throw yourself at last
        like a child to his father: tock.

09/25/98

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