I am accustomed to the many things that are bothering me. I have been used to such disturbance. There are many things though that I can’t understand. One is that I am haunted and at the same time haunted by the discreet memories of the past. Among those are the spirits that I see every time I go to places. The very same places they lived in, the places they died on. I see them rushing to me. Approaching me with or without their eyes-sometimes red and wild eyes, those that has seen what is yet to be seen. I am bedazzled by those that posses light. The kind of light that hurts my eyes. The light that gets dim as I veer away from the realities they make me see. I can’t share with them the passion for theirs have withered. There aren’t any things to say to them or them to me. I can’t let them bring me to their past. I can’t reach out my hands to them. They are pleading to me as I am to them. I resign to the darkest room in our house. Hoping in fear that they wouldn’t walk in through the door. I don’t have a blanket to cover myself from the creeping cold that sweeps along with the gentlest breeze. It’s bitter agony. Bitter for I can’t commemorate the sweet life I’ve lost. Only there are remnants of misery. Then agony re-enters as if it were my lost child. Walking in and out of the door, waving me hellos and goodbyes. Gaping at me wide-eyed. Hungry.
I am eaten alive, slowly,completely.
I long desire to close my eyes. That I may wake in another place.
Before my continuous journey, I leave to you my story. The things I kept for a long time. The things I am sharing are the very same things that would bring more people into your life. The same time that they had came into mine. I long. I want. I desire.
For now my soul rests amidst the fiery depths and the glorious heavens.
Gone are the willows that smothered my back. Gone am I smothered by those willows of yesterday.
Sir Erasmus Converro