Past the imposing Arayat, The bus marches through vast armies of sugarcane, Red-purplish stalks standing like identical soldiers Upon the brown earth, against the martial sun. From my window to the world, Your tropical island adjoins mine Though only in dreams. The panorama of sugarfields Unravels the force of saccharine loves Silent as crystals But brave as platoons of canes Facing death in Negros’ battle mills Seeing light as sugar, sweet, Pure in body and spirit. Many are the armies, but one. Traveling north is always shuttling somewhere: There, the voices are muted—only hearts speak And even when the sun spares tomorrow, Always, there are the sugarcanes to follow.
comparative literature major from the state university, boyish-looking, 5'5", slim, brown, clean-cut, clear-faced, originally from nueva ecija and tarlac, hilarious, smart, flirtatious, literary-inclined, temperamental,in the brink of OC-ness. "'di ba, ako'y tao lang na nadadarang at natutukso rin...?" drop me a line at yahoo messenger: firstname.lastname@example.org; email: email@example.com;
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