Found

Posted: October 31, 2012 in Poetry
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Frown upon which that can be seen,
for in it you may find nothing.
The passing of things that are and have been,
will remain to be just that – passing.

Of what persists remains moving,
ever shifting, ever changing;
and if the I fails to see through these,
then the I becomes an it, nothing.

Two things man often crave for,
things passing and things remaining,
he finds himself situated in between,
and try to define which is that is.

With hopes, nothing more, of finding
something, anything or
someone who has ever been.

Elude

Posted: October 30, 2012 in Poetry
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Image

To push farther than here,
to be beyond that which is now,
only to see but not quite clearly,
In full circles searching; a lifetime of wanting.

Persistent through doubts,
embracing thoughts deemed of worth,
as truths found fail and fail to last,
what remains, remains to be what.

Perhaps all these, if all can be asked,
is for nothing, and fades, and never exact.
Adamantly resisting measures to be bound,
to be named, to be seen, to be that.

Then again we pursue, we thirst,
for what are we if not for that,
to push farther than here,
to be beyond that which is now,
to ask then ask then ask.

The Gasp

Posted: September 12, 2008 in Poetry

To places and phases, clandestine chances,

I scattered myself seamless, unspoiled and belligerent.

Mindless of wounds and incessant bleeding,

I pursued with a goal, with an end to begin.


Rushing with all strength, defying inner fears,

braved each storm though shaky from within.

I succumbed to naught, while yielding to nothing,

“This is my battle!” or what I thought the least.


Lunging deeper, armed with sighs and hopes,

I tempted anonymity, inescapable familiarity.

What they see in me, unrecognizable liberty,

“Passion comes with sorrow; Sorrow lets me be.”


Shackled unaided, I strived to be limitless,

conceded to the curb, determined to be still.

As the grip loosened, I gasped, I knew,

I am bound. I have faith. I am Free.

Indifference

Posted: May 24, 2008 in Poetry

I find you amusing, not necessarily peculiar,

Like the moon staring at the sun,

Gravitating towards an absurd center,

I find it unnecessary to find your meaning.


Blame me for your being lost,

as you fail to find yourself in me,

I see you, beyond which is nothing,

Blame me.

On Learning and Training

Posted: March 19, 2008 in Sighs

Ernest Boyer captured every concept and motivation that I have regarding training through his essay, “The Educated Heart” – I encountered his thoughts 7 years ago and I was never quite the same since. The American educator introduced the vital question of, “with people becoming more knowledgeable, educated, and well-informed, have we actually become more human?” This question has always guided me and impacted greatly in my everyday dealings and encounters; quite significantly in the way I share myself in the community. “What really constitutes the educated heart?” “What does it mean to have one?” ‘What is it to be human?”

With the number of concerns that tag on us in our everyday lives, whether at work or in our private lives, we have the tendency to be fragmented and scattered, resulting to a compartmentalized life that assaults our calling for integrity and wholeness. This creates a problem when we exhaust ourselves by weighing and assessing as to “what part of myself would best solve this issue I am currently faced with?” Later finding ourselves more “divided”; and in our efforts to distribute ourselves towards specific needs we tend to lose those precious connections that define our relationship with ourselves, others, and God. It is thus the task of the one that lends himself to the platform to see the “connectedness” of things–social, personal, religious–to the past, to the natural world, to each other, and if possible, to the eternal. This is not an easy task for it takes more than knowing a specific set of skills or presenting an established procedure – the trainer must, and if experience allows, submit himself to these experiences and confront his own brokenness…he may not be able to move the world but to make a difference in another person’s life makes it much more worth it.

The Platform is a very powerful means to shape the human person – and it is definitely important to understand that communicating values should be at the heart of it…I have had my share through this experience, and as those people I have encountered who shared themselves with me, I too am compelled to do the same. Being a teacher or a trainer carries with it a social and moral imperative that is a challenge and a goal at the same time – he must also realize that this vocation entails a very daunting yet fulfilling responsibility where he must find himself consistently grounded and constantly growing.

New Year

Posted: January 2, 2008 in Poetry

From without, it always comes,

Never within, Hope, that is.

Yes, hope.

  

But the Self, it must,

Remain intact, as always;

To witness this given,

Yes, hope.

  

That’s why the hopeless’ main battle,

Is with the self; and this is how,

The holy does not lose hope,

Yes, the holy.

Of sons and fathers

Posted: November 9, 2007 in Poetry

Unsullied eyes, in silence, soliciting,

A warmth like no other emanates,

As you look at my being, I see,

The father, the son, and me. Solitary.

As I am my father’s son, a son you are to me,

Not a continuity, but a chapter,

Not a story, but an account,

With every moment shaped and shared,

Memories of my own emerge.

Those caring hands I felt, I now impart,

A spirit that never wavers, and a mind that looks above,

Teeming with gratitude, committed to a foothold,

And cherishing that which is valued most.

“You are my son, with whom I am well pleased.”

My gift, my prayer, my peace.