On this morning, we talk about hearts.
"Sensibility to attachments is unavoidable;
once you reach for a taste, it swallows you
whole, leaving scrapes, leftovers of what used
to be your heart. And now, you look further
for answers, in filling a void drowned by
sentiments.” A stranger shared his thoughts
that morning. Sunlight chased shadows
on dew-filled grass as the wind played its
morning song in accordance with the coming
sun. We sat along the sandy sidewalks
of Mabalacat, Pampanga. It was a Sunday.
"What to do then if such a thing is unavoidable?"
I asked, in search for an answer of being lost.
He stretched his arms and exhaled his deep
prolonged breath, “You find a heart.” And he
vanished as the light reached his foot.
I took out a cigarette, lit it and inhaled the
intoxication of the premise; smoke followed.
“It’s never easy finding a heart.”