ang mga bagot

November 11, 2008

every single minute he raises his head to think, to glance at the clock ticking in this solitary room washed in white. this place that he is staying in is a place that he could not call his own, but his mind is trapped. the time that has been ticking for so many seconds, minutes, hours. the room was locked outside, a single narrow block of opening gave him the opportunity to glance outside, to watch shadows cross, to watch eyes peeping and fleeing. 

 

he is not waiting for anything. 

 

he has no purpose to wait – no, in this room, only time was relevant –  or was it? his thoughts, his actions, his words wouldn’t prove importance in this solitary room. the ticking of the clock continued – the sound bouncing on the empty walls. there was nothing to wait for but the next tick of the clock and the change of the time. 

 

mornings and evenings were not a factor in this room, even the clock’s presence has not established this phenomenon. 

 

a minute passed and he slowly hang his head down again, waiting for the next minute to come, to let in the irrelevant thoughts, the echoing what-ifs, what could have been, his life, his purpose, his existence.

 

 

 

 

minsan ay naaninag nya ang araw na pawang sumisilip sa kanyang mumunting bintana. 

 

sa lugar na ito, ang mga pader ay malamig, hindi nagbabago anuman ang panahon. ngunit tuwing nasisilip nya ang sinag ng araw, isang hindi pamilyar na init ang kanyang nararamdaman, na mabilis namang nawawala. minsan ay napagisip isip nya kung ito ba ay isang ilusyon, ngunit kung iisipan pa niya ito ay wala namang papatunguhan. 

 

sa lugar na ito, pawang ang oras lamang ang may buhay. 

 

lahat ng kanyang kinikilos ay naihahalintulad nya sa hangin na dumarating na lamang. ngunit ano nga ba ang alam niya sa hangin? lahat ng mga bagay, ang hangin ay isa, ay mga kathang isip lamang. unti-unti nyang isinara ang kanyang mga mata habang pinapakinggan ang paggalaw ng orasan. 

 

paminsan minsan naiisip nya kung siya nga ba ay buhay? hindi nga ba siya isang pawang kaluluwa lamang? o siya ba ay nasa ibang mundo? ang mga ito ay walang importansya. 

 

unti-unti nyang minulat ang kanyang mata at tumitig muli sa orasan na walang humpay na gumagalaw, niloloko ang kanyang pagkatao, ang kanyang pagkabuhay, ang lahat ng ilusyon at kathang-isip sa lugar na ito na tanging ang orasan lamang ang may karapatang mabuhay.

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