Remembering

“A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,

Better by far you should forget and smile

Than that you should remember and be sad.”

-Christina Georgina Rossetti

Someone is really never gone. Someone is still there waiting for lunch or saying you will go the distance or has a note to tell you there’s someone watching your back or wanting a plane ride.

Just how do you remember someone gone? When the tenderness has faded and gone to solitude, just how do you revive warmth and affection? When longing for that faint caress on your palm, just how do you recall sensation? When someone has bid love on you, just how do you recover that snail smile it made you and your day. Even when someone is gone, as moonlight recedes for day, you remember that once there was someone who made everything so adorable and expect to see a lovely sight again even in darkness.

So you think what could have been had things happened so differently, had the Sun never set on you. You muse now if things would have been different, perchance you would have had the chance to admit reciprocity of desire. Perchance you would have the guts to admit it bears you down to say next time. Nights would have been different too. Days would have been a lot brighter. Moments would have been a lot lighter. Maybe you would have shared more moments side by side talking about sweet and good things that only occur in sincere devotion. You bear the loneliness of a cerebral love that never really came true. But it leaves a lovely loveliness footprint that are unlike footprints in the sands of time.

Imagination stretches to a childish wandering when you try to remember someone who could have been. There is no limit to fatalism that only you could justify. So you think that if only you could hold your someone, it would have been so tight that it would leave a mark on the wrist and wherever your someone goes, you will always be tagged along. You think of triumph of the hearts much like musings of a future long gone but now may only be recalled in a thought. You are cognizant that you may never become as before.  Yet, you remember as if longing for an opportunity to be together again, to be together again for one last goodbye.

Remembering is a parting gift you never open.

Love, in the first person singular form (via opinyonista)

Amicule, deliciae, num is sum qui mentiar tibi?

Amo, I love. -o, -as, -at, -amos, -atis, -ant. The conjugation mnemonic my Latin mentor forced me to memorize. Thus, decades after such involuntary intellectual practice, I still remember those suffixes. But those are applicable only to regular verbs. Other kinds of verbs have different conjugations, thus, different suffixes as well. Latin grammar has a way of getting into a pupil. Agricola arat. Ancilla laborat. Tum domina apropinquat. The first … Read More

via opinyonista

Lift

Human spirit. The lives with which men breeze through this earth are entrenched with sharp turns, pointed corners, broken bones, and deeply seated fear of many things. These same lives however, are also enriched with great triumphs.

Life and living per se are densely murky. The level of visibility at the plains before our vision is almost always zero but human spirit breezes through all sharp turns and broken hearts. The human spirit pushes through total darkness to achieve, at first the resolve to achieve for it is an achievement in itself, then freedom from restraints, and then something sublime. That is always the order. After every “WTF” moment are high triumphs.

Earth and circumstance.

Earth. Referring to a number elements, it is the physicality on which lives live in. It is fraught with dangers, to borrow the words of Rabbit on catching a heffalump beyond the Hundred Acre Wood. Natural disasters. Man-made disasters. Time. Future. Fruits of time and future, among other elemental gangsters so irritatingly near and real; so possible and right on everyone’s faces. These notwithstanding, human spirit still achieves triumph. After every danger, and even when everything else has already been flattened down and torn to pieces, human spirit rebuilds.

It rebuilds not only the physical structure that has been broken, but also the abstract posts for such structures. For in every concrete post standing is humanity arising far taller and sturdier than the actual structure- that very decisiveness to conquer every danger earth throws at human resolve.

Realize. Realize that the human spirit has, for centuries, been trying to master his earth. Harnessing every element for his utilitarian mood and drawing strength from its core source-himself. Man draws his own powers not from rings, amulets, or enchanted hammers but from his own core. Every human spirit is a powerful human reactor. It is not only evolution that proves it. Its being part of the Earth itself.

Circumstance. A creation from nothingness that literally surprises and stuns every part of the physical heart; that very shot of fate that suddenly changes constancy; that every drop of anvil at the very parietal bone of you and capable of straightening even the aortic arch. That kind of circumstance. It’s heavy. It’s not a-friendly. It comes without warning like every fleeting second.

Sometimes. Sometimes the spirit is stunned by the immensity of a concern. It literally halts, though only momentarily, all motion forward. These moments one would say, “This too shall pass“. There is no feasible way out. That will pass. There is no weight greater. That will pass. There is nothing that can be done. That will pass for every stunning moment human spirit still manages to achieve high triumph.

There is nothing that can pin down the resolve of anyone to achieve a goal. Not even death. Death creates lives. There is nothing on earth or in heaven that can ground the flight of a soaring courage. Not even void. Void attracts fullness. Even failure encourages success. There is always a way to find the laurels even at the most depressing of times. Arise then! Soar. Lift.