From the Glittering Sky and Below

by Blue_Notebook

 

There they shine like gossamer stars floating in the dark melancholic sky. The censers of this nation’s sweet and afire desire to fly and to be recognized by its own people and by the flux of time.

 

Their bodies are slender and swift like a rose, bedizened with colorful stripes of different wont, understanding, knowledge, beliefs, and practices. In their petals are ruminated images of this country’s wealth in unity, harmony, hospitability, generosity, kindness, and love. At the tip of their thorns are the mini-projectors focused on the dark surrounding. And in it you can witness the people of this nation, farming, breeding, preserving nature, creating different materials out of nature’s finest crops, greeting the elders with respect using “po” and “opo” and having their blesses, going to churches to pray for a fine day and a peaceful tomorrow, and most of all, you can see everyone working together for the betterment of this country. All these exhibited by these wonderful flowers collectively rooted on a singular stage, dancing together with the ethnic rhythms and folk melodies created from nostalgic instruments from the past centuries created by our ancestors. A colorful play injected in the veins of the youth to revive the culture of our country, the root of our present. But rose nor flowers they are for they are one of those blinking dots in the dark and melancholic sky.

 

They are the sand-storm themselves. Gyrating through this land over and over again like a frivolous child. Their gaze interspersed throughout the golden scenarios and diamond-scented landscapes marked by the name of this very country itself. Originality is their creed and beauty is their greed. Storms they can be and yet never be fooled by what your eyes can currently see. Inside these catastrophes are colors that are alien to the norms and malicious to the envious, tools that are incredibly folly to many yet are powerful gadgets for the creative, and images of hope and trust that could eventually carve and paint this sullen country or world to quintessence. And as the storm ceased its work and fell into rest all that’s left for everyone is awe and the prize for their country’s magnificence. Various paintings of our own picturesque places that are sold and hailed by other countries, crafted materials that are so durable and attractive even to the artless which brought the name of our country to fame, and eye-capturing man-made places built to stun the whole world itself. But they are not sand-storms for they are one of those twinkling adornment of the dark, melancholic sky.

 

Their being is the sun and their rays are forever shining either upwards or down towards this world. But blink again and look back to what I’ve said for their light is their pen and this world is their paper. Their erudition is still unknown for whatever the others deem to be so easy they extract to let it show its complexity. And with their rays they work, unknown by the naked eye, writing about this nation’s worth, specialties, and people. But if you think that they only write about things, you’re wrong. For their pen is of the soul that reaches to the very core of the reader’s heart, haunting and bewildering their senses until all of it gives in and enters a world so far beyond what they know. Their pieces are spells that could throw an individual outside the normal world. And when the darkness begins to swallow this world, the letters on these pieces will glow and float like bulbs, gathering together to form unexpected scenarios and places for the mind to be home with, and after such breath taking event, the same letters will guide you towards the place where you needed to be, to the place you can call home forever, to this country where all their ink lies and comes from. But they are not suns for they are one of those sparkling images in the dark, melancholic sky.

 

And from below, the coaches, teachers, trainers will watch as they illuminate the whole ground like fireflies goading this nation’s beauty and wealth, for they are the youth of this country.

 

 

Author’s Note: I wrote this article concerning the youth of  a certain country which is Philippines. And, credits to Thomas Cole for the picture used entitled “The Voyage of Life”.