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Though love of yours can never be mine
Thy memories will always be here
You are the sun of the day;
    the moon of the night
Thy hands are the ocean; 
     touching the shore
     raging the deepest of the Earth
Thy body is the wind that the leaves long for

You are soft
You are beauty
Beauty is you

The stability of your heart like the ground that stands

You are the endless song that fills my entity
     the flower that blooms when morning breaks
     the dew that tickles the freshness of the morning

You are you
the beauty within
the life there is
the cause to my mortality


a memory of The Lost Diary, 
1995

The Lost Diary

How do you stop to love and start to live?
How do you start to forget?
How do you unlearn to ride a bike?

When I was younger, I was invited by my Language subject teacher to be part of the school paper, who also happens to be the moderator and over-all in-charge of the newspaper publication. I attended the screening session and found a number of interested people like me. We were then asked to write something about ourselves and cover any topic we'd like. This would help her, my subject teacher, gauge our writing skills and decide on what post best suits us. When the results came out, I was assigned to be the Literary Editor. I was surprised. Shocked even on some level. What would someone like me do in such a posts that I have never even been at least an apprentice of? What talent or skill do I need to make sure I work effectively in that post? What just happened? What was I going to do? I had no idea at all.

Writing is like a river
You know it springs from somewhere,
     But spell not exactly where
You know it leads to the ocean,
     But never can contain it

I didn't know how to start a poem or what the perfect words were to make a literary piece right. I didn't know where to get the ideas. I didn't know how to tell a story. But if there's one thing, I know I can feel and there is that something inside of me that needs to flow. 

So i take a pen and a piece of paper, and started to write everything that I feel. There was just me, a pen, and a piece of paper. It was a world inside of me. And the words found its way to the pen, and the pen shook hands with the paper. And the paper, he talked to me as how an old friend would. He told me things I thought I knew and he told me things I never knew. He was honest, and he made me cry. He was my console, and he just sat on the table. 

The words may never rhyme, but all in time
     Will be just fine
When you find the words to say, say we may, 
     Say it nay

I never knew there was a part of me that was untold, that was repressed. My moderator, she saw it. She read between the lines and for short moments during our reviews there was a bridge between me and her in a different world; she can see me as I am. So it was.

Goodbye,
Why do you hurt so much...

It was the last year of our stay in Elementary. A last work. No, not work, but rather a last piece as Literary Editor. I remember the title, it was 'Goodbye'. I gave it may all; the words I couldn't say, the fears I have, and the pain I feel. It was goodbye to the younger years, goodbye to happiness, and goodbye to love. I was young and foolish. I needed to be loved and not to feel alone. I needed to belong as we all do.

The song played...

Time passed by and changes walked with me. I have learned new things and have met new people. I have been down and been up. I have been bent, and have been firmed. I have been good and been bad. I have been lost and then found. I am far different from the ugly duckling I was back then. I have grown to be someone my past would have been very proud of. All those years, I have kept my diary of Literary pieces. For every moment in my life, I have shared with them, my silent friends; a pen and piece of paper. 

It broke my heart to one day find my friends consumed by nature and time. All the years lost. Why? Why? Please No. I have forgotten them in the past years, and just when I am bridging the past to the future, I find myself lost again. I wanted to share them to the world, every last word in it. Regrets. A part of me died and is mourning.

As you live everyday, there comes a time when you live a lifetime in a single moment... 

But this is not how my friends would want me to be. If they could talk to me they'd tell me to 'Move on, make a new story. Remember us in many ways.' The past no matter how beautiful or unpleasant they may have been, will always be a part of us. But we cannot live in the past. We learn and we move on, and we carry with us memories. Each moment is precious because it will never happen twice, as the present is as well. The words may be lost, but the feelings will never be...

How do you unlearn to ride a bike?
How do you start to forget?
How do you stop to love and start to live?

You don't. We don't. Live to love, then you love and live. 

Dear 1Z 4Y 1X 5W 1V 4U:2

I have never believed in living only once. You live everyday. As you live everyday, there comes a time when you live a lifetime in a single moment... 

Single
In a relationship
Engaged
Married
It's complicated

These are tags created by society to define our relationship status, but never for us to confine who we are or our happiness. Today is a day when happiness is abundant; colors of red, flavors of sweets, and scents of  flowers. Love and happiness is not just for those who belong to someone but for everyone who has a heart that can feel; for those who by themselves are complete, for those who are longing and hoping, even for those who are breaking yet believing that one day love will find its way. It is a day for those of us who are crazy enough to give without any in return, to give at the risk of heartache. You and I, are crazy-enough people doing things to make our feelings known no matter what the outcome is. Today is all and of a chance, a take on what tomorrow may be.

The sun is so warm, and the cool wind blowing. It's magical. When I close my eyes, I see you next to me. I feel you.

Just when I thought the day couldn't get any better, there was you. A face without a name, a name without a face. Yet in my heart I knew, you are here. More than this, there is you. More than I am, I am at the top of the world; like a child with his first slice of cake, the sun in the fresh new morning, the moon sitting on a birch. I find myself here, found and lost at the same time. 

The world stopped revolving.

That moment when the background goes blurred, and the camera moves around slowly while the leaves dance with the wind. There's me and a piece of you...

In time it will reveal...

While I have shared the happiness to those who have witnessed your gesture, while everyone else's curiosity you have sparked; it leaves me to myself that only time can truly tell where the road leads. Worry not, and keep the memories instead. Today, you have that piece of me and a mark on me, as I am with you.

May you find what you're looking for and may my notes bring colors in your days ahead. I pray that you will have time to visit. 'Tis a remembrance of a day in my life.

Happy Hearts Day 1Z 4Y 1X 5W 1V 4U:2 from the bottom of my heart. 


Ever grateful,

Cup of Hot Cocoa