The Myth

You have hugged me
yet, I can’t feel thy presence.
Maybe it’s the coldness of the night
That had made me numb.
But there’s an artificial sunlight
coming from the nearby lightpost
With rays, silently creeping
To expose the shadows
playing over the bed
Doing the age-old rituals
Underneath the crumpled sheets.
Yes, there is moaning
But in the heart, in the soul
Everything’s silent.
We want truth but we will find none:
As the whole truth about our love
is engufled
by the endless series of pretentions.
How said to know
that the carnal cannot beget love
as fire cannot beget water,
Neither earth can beget air.
Yes there is union
But oneness: there is none.
As I enter you
and you let me in —
We will realize that we are strangers,
actors in a play
nothing will remain real
after the light had faded
and the curtains had fell.

Antipolo City, Jan. 17, 2011; 8:20 PM


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