Our lives are composed of acts, that when strung together make up a lifetime. Every moment is a choice; fear or courage, indecision, coherence and all else – acts. We never really know what happens next, fate may lay waste to the best laid plans or may reveal after a long and winding bend, dreams further than our wildest dreams.
I wrote this nine in the morning as we were in the garden of the Twin Pines at Tagaytay. Poetry would lead me to say as usual that I am a victim of circumstance in this case, but that would be both contradicting and self serving. Also the tale is not mine. Not entirely. It’s mainly about someone else’s son. It just so happens that I consider him partly mine too.
A boy had left my orbit years ago. He left quietly, so opposite from the noise of his arrival and his intervals with me. I found myself talking to a young man last night. Somehow he learned what I sought to teach, but I think he may have figured it out himself. We never know what life brings, what we do with it is take it the best way we can, and do it with our backs straight.
I said yes without blinking when he asked me to be a godfather in his wedding.
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