Sane Madness

I am groping
at the end of my sane madness,
cherished with chilly thoughts,
and cuddled by ugly toddlers.

No one could ever comprehend
why the sea suddenly stops from flowing;
and then I found myself frowning,
struggling back to an ever after.

I deter myself for having betrayed,
what I know and used to know,
and what is amidst my pounding heart,
beating solely for truth,
and for what I really wanted.

I am mingling
right accross for a past
come and gone to the velvet sheets
of a night of folly and the stony bread,
broken and forsaken.

I stay untited yet untied
with what cuts accross,
with what leaps vast horizons
towards the deep legacy of becoming.

I beg you
not to forsake me,
not to forget me
'coz everything seems to do so...

Trust me,
and I'll hold on to what I promised;
deep within my sane madness,
I'll be hopefully waiting.

Of a Dozen Culprit and a Time of Gold

I would have known better
if only they have asked,
and yet I tell myself,
I'm just someone
to be knocked out.

And yet to be blamed
when all things around me
seem to fail down to its dregs,
I stand alone amidst a dozen woes
made by each culprit,
of time well spent,
of seconds made gold.

Seems I care not at all,
though tears do easily fall;
I'd rather knock to the goblin's door
'til I finally meet the final floor.

Got no time to be back
and start to where
the whole world wanted;
And I, left behind...
With only I, me and all the woes I had.

Bitter to where I should start
and living a life left by the untouched.
This is all I have,
and this is all, they say,
I deserve.

Should I if I Should?

Oftentimes I'm distressed whenever people try to determine what I ought to be. Many times would people say that I should do this and I should be like that without even considering what I think and what I feel about myself and the thing that they are referring to and wanting me to be...

Out of the depths,
I grasp for freedom;
Roaring like a lion,
And Searching...

Searching for a truth
That must be part of me...

Not of those who say what I should be;
Not of those who say what I must be.

But Should I be what they say I should be?

I guess not...

I feel not...

I hope not!

I am my own being,
Subjected only
To the foremost of my kind.

And no one else.

Of God, Angels, and the Journey Called Life

When I was young, what I hold on to in my nights of melancholic madness is the idea that somehow, riding my nighttime star is an angel ready to go down and embrace me when everything seemed to be so messed up. I even thought of becoming an astronaut so I could at least plan my first space launch towards that star. But as I grew up, I started to neglect the idea, not just because I learned from school lectures that somehow, it is impossible, but because I am afraid. I am frightened by the idea that if ever I will be able to reach that star, my dear angel would not be there, that everything was part of a mythical world told by my mother to appease my childhood tantrums, and that the very idea is the incarnation of my immature foolishness.

Blind that I am, I never realized that part of the story is the going down of the angel in times that I have deep concerns --- concerns that seem to ruin or make my life in their own unique, tragic, comic or even kind faces --- and that mostly, my angel is here no matter what and not anymore in the lone star I look up to at night. He merely changes his mode of connection and shows himself in a thousand modes depending on what really is relevant for the moment.
Realization leads to knowing that the star has far assumed the world I move into and that the angel has assumed each and every good things, persons and insights that have crossed my way. But the problem at times is the confusing patterns to where my angel must be traced, where part of it is going through a straight line amidst chaos and personal vulnerability and the other part is like crossing a sea of darkness headed by a little spark of light which seems to fade easily.

In this enormous world where there is so much to say, so many words to utter and so many persons to tell them, it is quite amazing how God puts the proper words at the tip of the pen of a person who can undeniably touch the life of whom the Almighty might has long wanted to reach and of whom he has wanted to be guided back into His loving light. It is rewarding that amidst darkness, an angel in flesh helps us in our way out of the darkness. As he humbly puts it, Fr. Dars is an instrument for God’s infinite graces to flow bountifully in our hearts and our mind, an angel waking us up in our deep sleep attacked by confusions and darkness. But he is one of the best instruments of God to wake us up, I suppose. It may be because of his uttered words but more so, it is through his writings that he ultimately manifests his angelic nature.

This compilation of Fr. Dars’s reflections, homilies, symposiums, and talks together with other academic papers made by his colleagues in the ministry has served as a luminous angel leading us back to the real spirit of our Christian tradition. This angel leads us to gather once more the shattered pieces of our own life and the belief we are into as well; that in fact, it faces us the reality that in as far as we have travelled as Catholic and Christian communities, we have also left others of our own kind groping in the dark and naked of human dignity.

This compilation of works is also a celebration of love, uniqueness, and wisdom incomparable because of its uniting force amidst its scattered themes and different inspirations. From Church documents toward living faith experiences and testimonies, it gives us a reassurance that God is not alienated from this Church and our people. From challenging and provocative insights toward the tear-jerker and emotionally touching articles, it leads us to a place where we can have a deeper encounter with the inner reality of things and how we can understand our own shatterpoint as persons. From poetry and songs toward essays, it places us in discernment of a transformative and reviving energy catching us up as we live as brothers and sisters bounded by one language, the language of the Divine.

At the end of them all, we see this angel leading us back to our one true home which is no other than the home prepared for us by God.

When I’m journeying, I never get afraid if the path is straight. It is somehow a reassurance that I can always go to where I must go. But in times that the path splits into two or more paths leading to different directions, that are most likely to happen for most of the time, I’m losing my confidence. Much more will I surely lose if I’ll meet a dead end. But thanks to the concretizations of my angel, which like signboards have made the journey no matter how long it seems, more bearable and productive.

Thanks to Fr. Dars, who in his own life, ways and through his writings, has been helping us in our journey back towards the gate of the great Kingdom that God has promised, a place which I guess, it will be best for us to work out in this earth. Some of his articles may have been dating back several years ago, but rest assured, the spirit is still knocking in the doors of our current life, an invitation to recollect and reflect on how we have travelled so far and a reinforcement to march ahead and keep journeying.


*made for Rev. Fr. Dars Cabral and his upcoming book.

Accuse me!

Accuse me of corrupting the mind of the young but I'm just like a helpless Socrates who cannot stop myself from thinking and questioning things... The difference is I don't voice it all... It was, however, killing me at times... Why should I control myself from being a simple gadfly trying to wake the mare from its deep sleep and illusions...

And if God would forbade me to use the only weapon I have to change the world and seek things to work out for all of us, I'd rather die...

He knows and only He knows my stand... No one else do... I remain here flashing thoughts in my playful mind... I know, they can never be enough to change the whole world but they may possibly suffice to change the things around me... If not, they can still change myself...

Should I live in the cowardice of a yesterday come and gone?
My answer is a big no or else I'll flank my self because no one else will realize the reality of things...

I'm not saying that I know everything... I know nothing and yet I try to understand... Accuse me of many things... Accuse me of all the crimes in the world... Accuse me and I know God who is the Truth in Himself will free me at the end of them all...

Cuaresma'08 Part 3

The Tres Caidas of the Revilla Clan
The Dakilang Paglilibing of a priest who hailed from San Miguel
Another Mayor owned
The Church interior
The "Libing" which is done after the procession in the old house of the Siofo Family...

Cuaresma'08 Part 2

The procession lasts for two hours and covers major streets of 3 barangays of San Miguel...
The image above was taken from the "karo" reenacting the Last Supper which is owned by the De Leons..
The Calvario is another "karo" owned by the town's mayor...
The above picture was a reenacment Jesus meeting a samaritan woman...
The Agony in the Garden...

Cuaresma'08

Our Lady of Sorrows... This image is owned by the former couturier of my mother, Kuya Jojo, who passed away several years ago...

Veneration of the Dead Christ's image after Church rites...
The image above was taken from one of the popular "karo" owned by the Mayor of San Miguel... Most of the Mayor's "karos" are famous because of their majestic setting and grandeur... The height of the statues are also bigger than the physical stature of an ordinary Filipino..

This is the famed antique image of Nazareno... Unlike the one venerated in Quiapo, the color of the skin is considerably fair...

Funny how it seems but the people of San Miguel seems to flood the streets approaching to the church every Good Friday procession... I said it seems funny because most of these people are part of the so-called occassional Catholics...

The Cost of Pain

Pain: you don't buy it and yet it costs you much...


But in the very end you will realize how it trained you to be the best that you can be...


One can never know why or how...


And yet it can only stay there every once in a while...


To make you hold on...


To make you cry at times...


Pain costs much...


To make you stronger.