LIGHT IN THE MIDST OF SHADOWS

Sunshine. Such a view manifesting a grandeur beauty. God-made for creationist, sprouted without reason for fate adherers, an effect of spiral or whatsoever atom that blew-up for experimental scientists. Whatever may be its origin, there is beauty in it. Shining, giving rays of hope to people shrouded with countless doubts, questions, hopelessness. Hopelessness, I would love to be in its comfort. An irony, comfort being found in hopeless thoughts, completeness stuck in a hollow structure of a brood, irrational for loving in answering questions after questions as if in each mental act I found actualization of various realizations. I opt to stop it, I may love it as my senses dictates yet those are erratic; if those things be a doctrinal matter of an ecclesial cult then I may grasped an excommunication imposed by meritorious and self-righteous Christian pharaohs, be listed as one of the institution's threats, a heretic. Senses, the very basic foundation in gripping the bold truth to fit-in in my Tabula-rasa mind yet how can I grip truth if I cannot even grip a single pen to write this Phenomenological or maybe in general sense, a Philosophical inquiry?

See? People existing in the broad daylight, touched by hope after Mr. Sun sat on his throne after being pulled by Apollo, enjoying the balancing force of the Yin and Yang. I may sound judgmental in the following lines, yet it somewhat contains a certain truth and by the way, it is not an innate nature of mine to judge immediately, people and my family taught me how.

Look at them, they have the mind but wasted their time in mixing that dice-puzzle in mahjong, handing it towards others' faces, pointing insults at their fellow rational beings, such gifts being used for the spread of evil, sloth, and dependence on chances! What an insult! How does it feel to have such? For me, that thing is what I needed for physical completeness. Maybe such personal realization is due to a deep desire for things I do not have and if given the power to have it at birth then maybe all of these realizations I posted cannot arrive in my temperament.

I am Bontoy, recently have marked the beginning of being called a man after  long years of living as a desire-pushed teenage boy. As I have these realizations in mind, I have recently ended an exhibit, yes an exhibit of my charcoal drawings there at the Downtown. Everything went smooth and well until this man of old age arrived, clapping his hands, A handful clap be given to this exhibitor, a man punished by nature for the reason of none. He continued, after this exhibit, can you feel having attained completeness? I don't think so, you are still a trash, a man without hands trying hard to raise yourself and brag a title in the worldwide arena. I kept myself, emotion-stiffed, mentally looking for positivity, but I cannot stop absorbing such negativity released from my father's mouth. Have I done him wrong? Maybe as a curious kid, but not to the brink of making his other step into the graveyard. I then recalled that he said when I was in my 6th Grade, you're the cause of my miseries and misfortunes, how can such a young boy, who's desire was just to play hide-and-seek with other pupils under a heavy rain caused a vast hell? I am miserable! How come that I became a misery? Because of my physical incapabilities then I may have a similarity to being an ornate figurine of Traditional Chinese beliefs? I think my only fault was that out of the million sperms, I am the only triumphant yet I did not choose to be born, I am thrown into this world. Thrown to become a misery! No, I am not. I am incomplete physically but being alleged for such from a fully capable man is fallacious. A complete, blaming his failures from an incomplete.

Back to the event, he went on still clapping his hands while other people suddenly realized a seemingly funny thing and eventually laughed. They all laughed, not to my father for being so insulting but to me, for being not like them. All of them are fully-able bodied men, they have arms which connect the hand towards the body. They all can clap and so they did. My works are supposedly the highlight of the event, yet this humble work of the Divine, an incomplete became the center stage. They all laughed at this work of a God whom not anyone has seen yet He is. I stood still, holding my ground, appearing a structure bombed by tankers and fighter jets while holding on even though pieces of pieces of emotional blocks were separating apart. A long stand-off, very long. Yet I realized, are these the good or best product of a Divine hand? So what does it make to be a human? To be physically complete? A minute or two, it circulated into my thinking until a sudden spot of house light struck my eyes, it seemed a religious experience, yet totally I was enlightened.

Thanks to this house light for striking my shadowed mind, I felt a touch of hope in this nearly hopeless situation. A man is not a man for being physically complete, a man is man since he has a soul, a mind, a metaphysical answer it may seem and so be it since that is how I would like this to end, a metaphysical thing. Inequality? Stop that! I am you and you are me separated by a body, corrupted for some, Divine for most if the beholder acts morally. Yet in essence, we are the same, a rational animal with a talent.