Skip to main content

Goin Where The Wind Blows - Mr. BIG


"Goin' Where The Wind Blows"

Someone said life is for the taking
Here I am with my hand out waiting for a ride
I've been living on my great expectations
What good is it when I'm stranded here
And the world just passes by
Where are the signs to help me get out of this place?

Linggo, Habang kalong ng kadiliman ang katahimikan sa kalaliman ng gabi, naririnig na umaawit sa aking cellphone ang tinig ni Eric Martin. Ah, Mr. BIG – bakit kailangang napaka lamig ng iyong boses? Bakit kailangang magbigay ka ng alaala ng kalungkutan mula sa iyong mga awitin? Tipong lullabye na paulit ulit kinakanta sa batang walang nais gawin kundi matulog na lamang…

Stranded – ito nga siguro ang salitang mag dedescribe sa gabing ito. Habang abala ang mundo sa pag ikot, sya namang pakiwari mo’y tumigil ang lahat sa paggalaw. Kapayapaang hanap, di na matanaw. Walang liwanag, walang pag-asa. Wala. Nagnanais tumakbo at lumayo sa lahat. Habang lumalalim ang gabi, sya namang hinuhubad ang suot na maskarang nakangiti na nagtatago ng lungkot at problema. Sa kahubdan, walang saplot ng pagkukunwari.


If I should stumble on my moment in time,
How will I know?
If the story's written on my face, does it show?
Am I strong enough to walk on water
Smart enough to come in out of the rain?
Or am I a fool going where the wind blows (wind blows)?

Malayang mailalabas sa pagsusulat ang lahat ng saloobing di kayang ihayag. Bakit? Sa kadahilanang di ito tanggap ng mga tao. Sa kwentong naihayag sa pagtatago ng maskara, ito’y parang yung kwento ng “the boy who cried wolf.” Kailangan pa bang magsalita at kumontra? Kailangan pa ba ng pagpapaliwanag? Kaliwanagan – ngayon ko lang napagtanto na ito pala ang root word ng pagpapaliwanag. Subalit, di nga ako ismarteng tao – mas madaling humiga na lang sa daan at hayaang dumaloy ang mga patak ng ulan sa aking pagkatao. Malamang sa pamamagitan nito, malinisan ang aking pagkatao. Silaw sa moralidad, mga pantas at kathang puro na lamang nilikha para sa sarili. Hahayaan ko na lang na maging tanga at sasabay na lamang sa ihip ng hangin.


Here I sit halfway to somewhere
Thinking about what's in front of me and what I left behind
On my own, supposed to be so easy
Is this what I've been after
Or have I lost my mind?
Maybe this is my chance and it's coming to take me away, yeah 

Sa pagmumuni muni sa porch, di maipintang sakit sa lahat ng bagay na nawala at mawawala pa. akala ko madaling iwan ang mga bagay na nagpabuti sa iyo, mga tsansang naglaho tulad ng usok na namumutawi sa sigarilyong tumutupok sa aking baga. Nawawala na nga yata ako sa aking sarili. Nagiging isa sa aking anino, nagbabagong anyo, di ko na din kilala kung ano ba talaga ako. Di nga pala ako malakas, di din ako kumpiyansa sa kakayahan ko. Iniimagine ko pa lang na maiiwan ko mga bata, parang punyal na tumutusok sa aking kaluluwa. Pero ano pa nga ba? Di ko din maisip na tumagal pa sa lugar na ito. Di ko kakayaning magkunwari na okay ang lahat pero merong mga taong alam mong pinaguusapan ka sa likuran mo. Mas okay pang hindi mo alam, ang siste, alam mo at kilala mo sila.


Here I am walking naked through the world
Taking up space, society's child
Make room for me, make room for me,
make room for me
Am I strong enough to walk on water?
Smart enough to come in out of the rain?
Or am I a fool
Going where the wind blows (where the wind blows),
Going where the wind blows?

Muli, habang kalong ng kadiliman ang katahimikan ng gabi,
hubo’t hubad na nakatitig sa kawalan,
humihingi ng tulong sa maykapangyarihan
na bigyang linaw kung ano ba talaga ang plan.
Konting lakas pa, ilang araw lang po –
mahahanap ko din ang lugar ko sa mundo.
Tanggalin ang takot, pagdududa at sakit.
Tulungan akong mga mata’y maipikit.
Nais ko lamang muling ngumiti
Para sa kanila – sasabay sa ihip ng hangin,
Upang sa pagtulog
Mahanap kapayapaan namin.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

A Blank Verse Poetry

I ran this morning. Gray sky, nothing special. Weather that doesn’t force you to feel anything. Usually, I wander without purpose. Today, something stopped me. Time is a trap. We pretend it’s limited, but it isn’t. So we rush through it—steps, choices, life—until it all blurs. The small things disappear. The smell of earth, the quiet air. Gone. A song got stuck in my head. “I’ll stop the world and melt with you.” Unwanted. Persistent. How did it get in? Maybe fate. Maybe nothing. I don’t believe in destiny, but here I was—stuck in the sound, stuck in a loop. The world paused inside me. I didn’t move. The day went on. Hands trembled—not from connection, but from the weight of existing. Scars on skin—maps of past failures. Nothing clean, nothing clear. I touched a cheek. No softness. Smoke? Habit? Grip loosened—like sanity slipping. Wanting to let go, but afraid of the emptiness that follows. I kissed a cheek. A stupid move. A laugh broke the silence. A glitch. A mistake. Coffee a...

The Slow Death of the Familiar Lie

The 2025 elections just ended. Not with fireworks, not with riots—just the quiet unraveling of yet another chapter in our nation’s long and complicated dance with democracy. There’s something different in the air this time. Something subtle, like the way dusk falls before you even realize the day is gone. You feel it before you name it: a shift. Not seismic, perhaps not even visible to the untrained eye. But there, like a whisper at the edge of a crowded room. People have grown wiser. And no, this isn’t naive optimism. It’s not the kind of blind faith that wears campaign colors and chants slogans. It’s the kind of wisdom that comes from repeated heartbreak—from choosing hope too many times, only to be betrayed by men in suits and smiles. From believing in change only to see it morph into the same old trapo politics dressed in newer fonts. “Pain is a brutal but effective teacher—especially in a country where memory is often the first casualty of every election cycle.” But maybe ...

The Tension Between Hope and Despair

This is w here the light breaks just to drown. Hope isn’t some pretty thing. It’s a slow burn that keeps you awake at night, fooling you with a whisper, “Maybe this time.” It digs its claws in, even when everything screams you’re done. Hope’s the hook you can’t shake, even when it’s tearing you apart from the inside. Despair doesn’t wait politely. It crashes in like a storm, cold and sharp, and it doesn’t care if you’re ready or not. It doesn’t dance with hope—they fight. It’s brutal, ugly. Despair wants to swallow everything whole, leaves no room for mercy. There’s no peace between them. It’s a war you didn’t sign up for, but you live it every damn day—grasping for that fragile flicker, even as the darkness tightens around your throat. You hold hope like a lifeline but feel despair pulling the knot tighter. No balance. No graceful dance. Just a mess of broken promises and shattered dreams. Hope keeps you chasing ghosts; despair waits, patient, knowing it will win. And the worst p...