The horror of not knowing
is killing the inside
of me, of her, of him
maybe of you

We, all of us have at least once in our lives imagined whats next
We, all of us have followed a schedule so we'd know whats next

The horror of knowing
is very specific
is truely full of adrenalin
it kicks me right in the chest

None of us would enjoy the full experience of knowing everything
None of us can be in the power of knowing everything

We all have doubts, hopes, dreams, sorrows, speciel moments.
Sometimes those doubts, hopes, dreams, sorrows and speciel moments
won't live up till your expectations.
Then you'll have to remember that it wouldn't be a gift, to know everything or not to know anything.

We are after all only ourselves, and we should live in this, our, moment of time. nothing and no one should mix in and make us think towards the future or the past.

We shouldn't hesitate into information. Rethink and if you truly visualize yourself in happiness with the information the go get it, otherwise don't.

Another love story of mine, I wanted to know everything, every little **** thing of affairs that happened, had happened or would happen.
Well long story short, that relationship didn't work out.

Over and over like an endless love story we are pulled back together.
No matter where we go,
No matter all we've done,
You are the fibres of my existence-- and I will always come back to you.

Abandoned.
Engulfed in the empty black of deep space.

Drifting.
Slowly drifting.

Breaking.
Swiftly breaking.
Perpetually. Due to the last seen face…

… He saw a black hole in her eyes.

Her name was…
Resistant.

She was opposed, obstinately feeling…
He was shattered to the core, each shard constantly peeling.

His heart was snatched from his chest, thrown to jackals,
How could it come to this? He was wholly baffled.

The love that would never end became the lie that would never end.

The love that would always be became the love that never was.

The everlasting pain marinating his entire being, till the steam of anguish seared the inner of his eyes. Causing them to pour forth sorrow; salty, bitter sorrow for him to eat.

He ate nothing else but the sorrow which he brewed.
He despaired of life, until…

He saw the face of death.

Their love continued.

Shining gloriously–not like the sunlight beaming through a stained-glass masterpiece, but–as though the sun itself were enveloped in stained-glass.

They were inseparable.

Their hands interweaved like the strands of the most symmetrically crafted royal garment. Golden, the strands. For when their hands meshed it was as though they fused into one effulgent organism of affection. Generating waves of love.

Their hearts were intertwined.

They danced on the rising horizon. They slumbered on the sunset. They kissed the stars, between each other’s lips. They held the summer’s warmth, within their embrace.

He saw the sunshine in her smile.

He saw starlight in her eyes.

Until…

A new acquaintance entered their lives. A villain of indifference. His name was…

Distance.

The summer’s warmth he once knew soon became the chill of early autumn. The hand he held became a key, hidden in a repository of antiquity. Her voice, once a spectrum of color, became like the dullest gray.

He saw dark night in her eyes.

His world collapsed.

… Falling and never crashing, in the infinite emptiness of cold space.

Then, like a dauntless archer, she relentlessly struck him to the heart. And the impact resounded unbounded in his realm of existence…

Never ending…

The sound of one word…

“… Anymore.”

Intertwined silhouettes in the evening twilight,
the wind causing the raindrops to fall erratically in spite.
Your kiss, an everlasting promise and each drop of rain in all its glory
is a beautiful note in the symphony of our love story.

Mayroon akong kwento,
Sana ay mabasa ninyo.
Tungkol sa isang bobo,
Na minahal ang matalino.


Makurba ang katawan ni Matalino.
Mapungay naman ang mata ni Bobo.
Kabaitan ang ipinapakita ni Bobo.
Kamalditahan naman ang kay Matalino.

Isang araw sa may parke, nagkita ang dalawa.
Bumili ng minatamis si Bobo at ibinigay kay Matalino.
Pero hindi ito tinanggap dahil si Bobo ay hindi tao.
Sa halip na mainis, si Bobo ay ngumiti sa kanya.


Iniiwasan siya ni Matalino pero ayaw ni Bobo.
Mistulang kabute ito't lulubog-lilitaw.
Gusto niyang mahalin siya ni Matalino.
Kahit masunog pa ang balat ni Haring Araw.


Lumipas pa ang ilang linggo, buwan at taon,
Sumuko na si Matalino kay Bobong makulit.
Binigyan ng pag-asa ang pagsisikap niya hanggang ngayon,
Dahil alam niyang wala itong hihilinging anumang kapalit.



Hindi naglaon at sila'y naging kasintahan.
Ipinagmalaki si Matalino, siya'y kinaiinggitan.
Abot na niya ang langit sa kanyang harapan,
Pagka't napasagot niya ang Diyosa ng Kagandahan.

I have a story to tell.
A story you already knew so well.
But this won’t begin
With your typical “Once upon a time”.
I have a story to tell
A story you want to hear on your bedtime.
This is a piece of letter
Of hearts and roses
From a simple girl
Who wrote on a piece of a timeworn paper
Her dreams and wishes;
Of burns and ashes.
And it goes like this…

“Tonight, I’m sipping wine. And I pray and I wish that you are fine. That you can surpass everything life throws at you. Because I know, you are good at catching things.

And putting myself at the edge of the hill, with nothing to hold but the thin air, and jumping off of the cliff would be worth the fall, if I see you there under, waiting. You were there. Not minding what it would cost you catching me.
        
Those to you, bruises and wounds are what but nothing. Because I know, you are a fighter, a catcher. And you are good at catching.

         And if in the end, we see ourselves barely breathing, consuming one another, wearing those painful marks of risking it all, why not spend the rest of our lives healing all those scratches, tattered fleshes, and broken bones.

         Then, we’ll look back. We’ll speak to one another without hushing any piece of word. We’ll voice with nothing but smiles and stares that we made it. That we exceed boundaries of almost, and that we finally brought all the pillars, all the columns, and all the walls down. We cut that paper thin and fine lines of hopelessly dreaming and living the reality, of what is real. Together, we explored and unlocked the unimaginable door ways to our infinities and galaxies, and universe and ultimate. We are our own universe. We have discovered the ultimate.

         These are the prize of trying and fighting and catching and winning. That fear is what but nothing.
And you are synonymous to everything.”

This is the story I want to tell.
A story you already knew so well.
And the only lesson, my friend
That this scene of standing, and holding,
And jumping, and catching, and living
Is not the movie’s ****** 30-minutes away down to the end,
But only the beginning of a well-written story of characters
Of perfect blends.
This is the plot of betting it all.
This is the story of The Greatest Fall.


WNG
070915
10:00pm

A Paris night, with all it's sweet endeavours,
Blurred by a face with emerald eyes,
Out shadowed by the shades of her hair,
She must be the truth of beautiful lies.

With a cup of warm coffee in her hands,
With the gentle wind unfolding her hair tress,
The waiter with bewildered bones,
Greeted her 'Buenas Noches'

She grinned and with tender steps lead her way,
While a pair of eyes was at sea.
In the wild calm of her imperfect picturesque,
The shackles of his heart were set free.

Behind the looking glass, the boy stood subdued,
In the utter waves of her essence,
The euphonious ripples of the angel's visit,
The graceful gift of her presence.

The night turned into a hopeful day,
With the pair of eyes still seeking in the streets,
Searching for the beat of his heart,
The earth to his feets.

With desire clocking to despair,
Those eyes grew wet,
With the clock beating seconds,
He had a journey to get back.

The bags laid still on the room,
The food untouched at the bed,
With eyes lost in that night,
He raved the streets of Paris till a miracle shed.

And his eyes met that lovely face,
The girl you can't stop from falling in.
The blood rushed once again through the veins,
Working the muscles to bring a smile,
The smile of an answered heart,
The smile that explains the mystery we call Love.

But the face was lost again,
In the same old Paris streets.
With a hidden smile, he turned back,
Hoping their small worlds would meet again,
In a place where hearts reigned.

In a silent place,
where a silent man
met a silent woman,
whom fell in love silently.

Silently the years passed,
they speak to each others feelings
with their silent tears.