Fragments of the Quiet Mind

  The soul is a fragile and ephemeral thing.   Tethered to the body like a ship to an anchor, it navigates the treacherous waters of existence with uncertain footing, and most often than not, unsure of its own direction. Like a lone sailor adrift in the boundless ocean, the soul searches for a purpose, a beacon of light to guide its journey through the tempestuous waves of life. It navigates through treacherous waters with an uncertain footing, buffeted by the winds of fate and tossed about by the capricious tides of destiny. The very essence of its being is an unquenchable thirst for meaning, a yearning to discover the purpose that lies beyond the horizon. With every sunrise and sunset, it scans the horizon in search of that elusive guiding star, that flicker of hope that will keep it on course. It struggles against the relentless currents that threaten to pull it under, fighting with all its might to stay afloat. Yet, even in the darkest of nights, it clings to the belief th...

In the realm of endings, lingered remnants lie, Transformed, unrecognizable, yet enduring, No longer adorned with familiar labels, Nor the profiles once known, they persist. Imagine the actors in this play of cessation, Aware of its continuation, a paradox of existence, Unfolding within an unmarked relationship, Unveiling depths beyond the ordinary. Haunted parks, offices, and well-trodden paths, Bearing witness to flourishing connections, While also embracing the deaths of others, A cycle of creation, destruction, and rebirth. Now, envision a bond that chose stillness, Resigned to perish where it once thrived, Foregoing the openness, honesty, and tales, Conversations reduced to silent gazes. Yet, amid this perpetual continuity, Can we proclaim that it truly ended? For the essence of respect, care, and truth, Endures, transcending the labels cast aside. Thus, within the crucible of my weary mind, These thoughts surrender, bidding farewell, To contemplate the enigma of conclusion, Leavi...

Alright, listen up—my muse is in full-on concupiscent mode lately, which is a fancy way of saying she won’t let my brain rest. So here I am, trying to capture the experience without smashing it to bits under the weight of words. If you came here expecting a highbrow academic paper... nope. You can bail now. This ain’t that. Picture me: balcony, laptop, coffee, and my muse—lusty as ever—deciding now is the perfect time to show up. Since writing without smokes is like trying to dance without music, I grabbed my umbrella and braved a rainstorm on steroids. Oh, and did I mention I live half a kilometer from civilization? Cows, horses, crickets—mountain life perks. Welcome to the wild. Made it to the store and here’s Manang with the bad news: “No Marlboro, kuya. Nobody buys those anymore.” I blinked. “Champion lang po.” Champion? I thought I was gearing up for a symphony, not a fight with a cigarette. But whatever, I bought it. Back on my throne (balcony chair), I lit my Champion… Puf...