Catharsis

Catharsis

Sea waters are born lucky for they break along the rocks.

Mountains are created lucky for they end in cliffs and

crescent moons where humans can see the endless

horizon right here where I am seated.

Islands are even generously bestowed

with treasures- green, brown and gold

But some are barren like the three ones

At the middle of my vision – they are bald.

Fish jumping out of the water are born to swim

Both in the shallow and the deep –it’s lovely

To see them jumping in an orchestra – creating sounds

And like the ripple of the water where they live

White birds are teasing me, black birds are away.

White birds come near me, even fly direct

To my face and spurt white liquid on my limbs

I felt scared, yet they can’t ‘bite’ me –

In fact, they are afraid to come near me.

Plants are silent at my back, they await

for the sailing sunshine and the kiss of the rain.

The air is gentle, she doesn’t dare to disarrange my hair.

She brings the smell of the sea towards my adulterated nose.

The peninsula is barren, and dry unmoved by the prompting of my gaze

and the rushing of the musing in my mind. There are many peninsulas trying

to touch the sea and the sea trying to lie side by side with them.

The fog and the mist are away, veiling peninsulas, blurring their roots and limbs.

The human is there scribbling his thoughts, gathering muses.

Yes, he too is born lucky. He waits for the right time to speak so that then,

he will say the right words, the words of wisdom not only from of old

but those that comfort, liberate and dignify his fellow.

This human mortal as he is, lives only with his days, hours, minutes and seconds

counted by his passions and swayed by emotions.

When can this man go back to the days when

only words of encouragement emerged from his mouth?

When his thoughts are filled with the philosophy of wisdom

not only from the classics of the West but more importantly

from the wisdom of his ancestors? When this body is arranged

by the gentle breeze of the wind from north balanced by the south?

When can he be a master of himself - when he can be a captain of his ship -

to see himself sailing, unsinkable at the sea in front of him.

When can he see the waves of the sea, so gently calm down so he can reposition his sails and self?

When he starts to act, after his muses provided a golden compass, then the way is free and clear.

He must go’ he must continue to sail his ship; he should gather the ruins, start with a boat

and travel once again towards the abyss of wisdom.

He must learn to command his emotions in the service of this reason.

Reason should always lead the emotion, and emotion should always inspire his reason - not to scare it.

Like the sea waves that break and disappear upon encounter

with rocky cliffs only to recollect themselves back in the sea- he

must learn to accept breakage and the disappearance of the self from others,

and let him regain his soul back to himself and to the ONE.

And in regaining himself back to the one, he joins the ‘omnispace’,

the eternity of the ocean. He is a droplet in the ocean

yet he is the ocean without distinction.

His identity is not a broken and recollected seawater, he is the OCEAN.

The ocean where humans have sailed to conquer other lands, and

where they have sailed to dominate other humans.

But the ocean doesn’t dominate, it accommodates, it welcomes them.

It even tolerates hegemony and supports their testimony.

He is the ocean but he is not.

For he is not, he must learn to break and disintegrate

in the pool of eternal water of the ONE.

For he is, he must learn to go back to the OCEAN, the ONE – his origin, his catharsis.

Punta Del Sol Park

Peninsula Punta Fuego

Nasugbu, Batangas

5-6 AM, 28 May 2014