Sunday, December 10, 2006

Old Infinite Insanity Description

I'm posting it here for posterity.
(stole the smiley from here)
From the ashes of a glorious but slowly fading past
Burns the hungry flame of a passionate today.
Rising up from the muck of what weighs it down
It reaches up to the infinity of the cosmos
A beacon to the children lost in the dark
Lending warmth to the bitter and cold of heart
It lights the way to the countless possibilities of a glorious tomorrow
Slowly fading into view

It's actually a poem dedicated to UPPA. I wrote it right after the tambayan was burnt to a delicious black crisp. But... since we're back there now, I suppose the memory of it doesn't sting as much.

1 comment:

Vince Ragay said...

I was just thinking, before I read this poem, that you were "not" a good writer but that you were a good thinker -- full of logic, wit and wisdom. At your age, I would have given half my brain then just to have half of the thinking ability you have now and I would have been overjoyed. After reading the poem, however, I can see that you write as well as you can think.

For no matter how good a writer a person is (and I've seen many, especially in popular media), you will find out if he or she really is a good thinker. Many best-selling writers merely patch up together various stories to come up with original-looking works.

And it's not that hard to learn how to harness words. It's like learning how to drive; most people can do it eventually. But to think and to be able to express ideas without being trapped by the words is the great and ultimate pursuit of every writer.

Which brings to mind the parables and teachings of Jesus. We never thought of Him as a writer because someone else "wrote" for Him. But what a thinker He was! The Alpha and Omega indeed -- that about covers everything: letters, time and space.

How I wish I didn't have to pound on this keyboard and just sat down and thought of the beauty and the power of creation. But we are not the Master but His slaves who must reflect His glory in paltry word-images contrived in our puny brains.

But now and then a gem comes from these vessels of clay and shines as if the Master Himself spoke through us. For to be truly inspired is to let God breathe through us.

Somehow that short poem left me breathless.