ahhh but I was.

I still am.. until I can back up my promises with actions haha..

...took me most part of my friday free time and whole weekend to
read your beautiful pieces..

...am guilty of skipping those posts that are not yours and not literature-related..the pictures and quotes are awesome..

..dont get me started with the fractals..my goal is shorter posts

...lol

thank you glad you enjoyed

I would like to rant without being rude...

Lovely!

Two days before the end of the trip, our tour manager announced something unexpected. She said you would not be able to join us any longer, that you had made arrangements for another guide to accompany us for our last day.

She continued on her rant about how frustrated she was that you had made other plans apart from the tour schedule you had with us. On and on she went about how unprofessional it was for you to do this on such short notice.

Despite this and among other things she had to say, somehow, i understood you. What you did, does not surprise me.

You had already told me about your other profession in the kibbutz. You have also shown me and talked about your other tour schedules with archeology students and with Jewish expats in the coming days. As the week draws to a close, you were apparently called to discuss some issues you were responsible for in your respective kibbutz.

That night, a dinner was scheduled along with your last day with us. I had not yet finished the letter that i was suppose to give you. But at this point, i wasn't even sure how to give it to you anymore. You arrived with a representative from the tour company about 10 minutes after we had all settled down. Immediately, you greeted everyone with a smile and extended your appreciation at what a great group we were to have toured with. You gave your apologies for having mistakenly overlapped your schedule, but reassured us that a capable substitute was to be provided for the following day.

We ate dinner. I have no recollection of what it was. I was more preoccupied in wondering whether things were at an end or whether they would only be the beginning. You had with you a token gift for each of us that was handed while we ate. A small bottle of mustard seeds.

When dinner ended, we all went back to the bus, while you made your way back to your own car. I wasn't sure if it was just my imagination, but it was as though you never even saw me at all.... I held on to that bottle until we reached the hotel.

Funny how small things, can grow so large.

--- original unedited manuscript "Remembering Israel"

That day when we went to the house of Caiaphas, you not only brought me to see where what happened. I understood what happened. I felt it.

What it must be like knowing how things will end, yet hoping it won't be that bad.

We never want to have to choose pain in life, but some things are inescapable. Time and time again, we do choose pain, for something more, for someone we love. To sacrifice a part of ourself because of the ones we love is in itself already a higher purpose. To be constantly hurt by those we are for doing what we know is right for, and yet stand firm in that belief and be able to cause others to do the same even if the end seems bleak. Surely this is not stupidity. Surely this is a sign that there is more to come than what we can perceive.

Overlooking the city of Jerusalem, amidst a field of wildflowers, olive trees and dry earth, we walked up the steps where jesus would have been led to his cross-examination. We passed by the statue that marked the three-fold betrayal he had predicted. We passed the pits where where convicts and the accused were lowered into and withheld until their sentence.

We went into a room where a solitary pit was featured. Here was where he was consigned to his fate. We went downstairs and entered a door fashioned on the side of that deep cavern. You turned off the lights...silence.

You started speaking in a hushed voice about how it must have been like to be alone in the darkness. What it felt like waiting in timelessness knowing what lies ahead would be a long dark road.

I thought about that as our priest began to say a prayer. I still think about that day up to now.

For all the good and bad that we are and that we have gone through, failings and weaknesses make us human. Love recognizes this, accepts it, and seeks to transform it into something more.

--- original unedited manuscript "Remembering Israel"

Weddings have never made me cry.

Every wedding i have been to, were of some relative. None of my friends or siblings have married yet. None of my cousins my age have married yet either.

As i watched the elderly couples in the bus that day sit excitedly and acceptingly of their respective spouses, i felt as if i've yet to live my life. Some of them were married for 20 years, some as much as 40 or 50. My parents themselves, an odd 30 or so years.

Before we left for our trip, it was suggested during the initial tour orientation that married couples bring with them white outfits for our trip to Cana. As many wedding days go, something unexpected usually happens. Lack of good wine would've been a big downer. Mom forgot to pack her's and dad's white clothes.

Everyone went to change from their street clothes to their "matrimonial" garb. One by one, the brides came out of the changing room. The grooms, grouped together while waiting, broke away from the pack to meet their respective partners as they approached the church courtyard. Some of the brides wore a small veil, just enough to cover the tops of their heads, while each of the grooms held a single red rose. Arm in arm they all lined up at the entrance of the church, whilst the rest of us single people held on to our cameras to record another milestone in a couple's life.

Mom would've normally felt bad at her obvious slip, but it didn't show. And it was just like dad not to mind at all. It was funny how some of the guys pretended to be nervous as if it were their first walk down the aisle, and teased their would-be wives about backing out while they still can...none of them wanted to.

As the church doors opened, they each made their way in. Quietly and happily, they led each other to the altar and took their places on stage. Photographers continued exploring for the right angle to take their photos in. The priest came out and commenced the ceremony. Some looked at the priest, some looked at each other, everyone else was looking at them.

As the quick 30-minute renewal ended, the rose was given and a kiss was exchanged. Surprised gasps were heard as some husbands pulled out a ring and placed it on fingers.

It may take a miracle to make me cry at a wedding, and some miracles take more work than others. On that day, there were no blushing brides or anxious grooms -- just contented wives and happy husbands....

--- original unedited manuscript "Remembering Israel"

Emotive.
Misty eyed..

I don't know why but when I read this I thought of Gene Wilder in Willie Wonka and the Chocolate factory. Im weird I guess.

Which direction we are going.
There's no knowing where we're rowing
Or which way the river's flowing.
Is it raining?
Is it snowing?
Is a hurricane a blowing?

Not a speck of light is showing
so the danger must be growing.
Are the fires of hell a glowing?
Is the grisly reaper mowing?
Yes! The danger must be growing
For the rowers keep on rowing.
And they're certainly not showing
any signs that they are slowing!

that is a freaky association...but not without merit.
welcome.

http://youtu.be/rZXze53fpPI

Ninoy Aquino's Love Poem for Cory

recopied from -- http://mingle2.com/topic/442466

I have fallen in love
with the same woman three times;
In a day spanning 19 years
of tearful joys and joyful tears.

I loved her first when she was young,
enchanting and vibrant, eternally new.
She was brilliant, fragrant,
and cool as the morning dew.

I fell in love with her the second time;
when first she bore her child and mine
always by my side, the source of my strength,
helping to turn the tide.

But there were candles to burn
the world was my concern;
while our home was her domain.
and the people were mine
while the children were hers to maintain;

So it was in those eighteen years and a day.
'till I was detained; forced in prison to stay.

Suddenly she'�s our sole support;
source of comfort,
our wellspring of Hope.
on her shoulders felt the burden of Life.

I fell in love again,
with the same woman the third time.
Looming from the battle,
her courage will never fade

Amidst the hardships she has remained,
undaunted and unafraid.
she is calm and composed,
she is God'�s lovely maid.

Nice... just makes me wonder will i ever meet someone like that

i blame China...

Misty Nights

She moved in the misty nights,
When fireflies came out to play
And devils chased after lights
The evening sky had in array.
She made her way into the marsh,
Felling vines and roots alike.
With every step she took her plight,
Onto the misty night.
Like moonbeams and teardrops,
She fell from the sky,
Into swamplands of forever,
Waiting for those misty nights
To bring her heart's desire.


---mgsmd "PT" 8/2015