Bouncing Neutrinos

Lonely mind drifting recklessly:               
Gnawed and swallowed by pride.                  
Carried by wild winds - so swiftly,               
O’er torrents and strong tide.                  

Directionless it just wanders:                  
through darkness of deep pits.                  
‘Til stumbled by living waters -                              
where faith and reason meets.                  

There questions of weight and power,            
objections great and strong -                  
melt in light of consuming fire,               
when tender mercies came along                                  

Out of a whirlwind comes freedom:               
forgiveness and redemption mixed;               
then vision of Promised Kingdom -               
In tiny room B-zero-six.                        

Still and quiet - awed in wonder:               
gone are days of desp’rate searching.          
bowed low (repentance no simpler)             
before the Savior, Christ the King.            

Thus, turn of events one after another,               
brought the Cross - not at Calvary.                
Standing firm like a tall banner:              
in front of Kalayaan dormitory

Apathy, have we had enough?            
Hate, have we had enough?                  
Sorrow, haven’t we had enough?                     
Pain, have we had enough?               

We so yearn and we deeply groan         
for things we so long for.             
But in futility we moan-               
we can’t change our sad core.          

It’s obvious hunger proves nothing -   
except, that is - for food.             
Could these achings mean something:    
Amidst the bad - could there be good?   

When I can carry no longer-                         
the immense guilt within.               
Truth is shining so much brighter:      
I can do nothing for my sins.          

Yes, our actions are but nothing:      
mere vapors gone in time.               
Yet one deed surpasses everything-      
when Jesus died for all of our crimes.

Bowed down on my knees in wonder:      
Such knowledge, is too great for me!   
All my sins on my Redeemer-             
When he hung bloodied on the tree.

I see Him alive, arms stretched wide -      
leading me: nearer Him to come.            
With pierced hands, feet and wounded side-
He assured me of my true home.      

Fiction does not necessarily have anything to do with the writer.

A reader must always distinguish fact from FICTION. Again, thank you very much.

Probably she’s cooking right now. I hope it’s my favorite -
she always found it peculiar: adobo with omelet. I’m weird she tells me and
laughs it off… That laugh, it never fails to make me smile - she never fails
to make me smile.

As usual, traffic in Manila is terrible…  Worst are the
swerving buses I have to avoid.

How long? I want to see her and the baby so much. That would simply
make my day…To be home at last.

Perhaps, I will open the door very gently. Go to the crib -
carry the baby - shush him so that he won’t cry (as if! ha-ha.)

Both of us will creep behind her. And she will be surprised
- she always gets surprised. Then I wrap my arms around her waist, smell her
scent once more; and gently kiss her like I never kissed her before.

A reader must always distinguish fact from FICTION. Thank you very much.