By: Iris P. Concepcion
Thus, I was slumbering in one of my good night's date with dreams.
Red sore clogged my eyes. I went straight to the lavatory to wash it up. Somehow, the sting vanished and I slept again.
Unbeknownst to fellow dreamers (you propelled a Presidency in modest fund), loudmouthed people were yelling incessantly to rouse me up (sneezes and yawns). Dispassionate and divisive.
Politics is the main culprit I suppose. In front of the window blinders, there they stammered insanely silly words, mouthing off obscenities and (this is getting to be a boring stint of coercion and power presentation: I regard them as firecrackers not lit up enough) bullying a girl's voice who does not like to be with abusive sychopants.
They were truly at it like busted, unaccepted cheerleaders. I am not mad at this sudden spring of defensive, false moves. I wouldn't lose sleep over a glitched operation. You simply live as is, and seek a common purpose with builders this time around.
First off: I am not familiar with their platform. I have seen their surfing platforms and I could not, for the life of me, understand the mechanics why they take off their anger, helplessness, frustration, slimy songs, beautiful hideaways as googled by everyone else in this planet, on me. The reel presented a better, forthright perspective on things.You always question: had you personally bilked them out for fun in the past? The lenses spoke louder though, as all motion pictures do.
Of course, I fidgeted, not being used to euphimisms and penchant to karnabals. It does not help either that the protected, dear child of the aggrieved spoke like a sponge soaked in bitterness. I said: that is a sad manifestation of a botched work. Sample of her words: "Binababoy ka namin dahil kung ilang tao na nakaganti sa yo" or something to that effect.
I am trying to recall what makes a sweet girl flare up in smokes like a rotund vinyl this time, but then again, Cannon has its way of delivering justice that I myself could never understand.
A more mature person who had raised up his children quite independently thus came up with a wisdom I still carry up to this day: Ignore the noise, listen to your heart.
The ire is not on me; it is a gripe directed at this country's stability.
A letter is thus written:
My Dear Country,
You have a citizenry filled with aspirations. Let them triumph over paid mobs.
Where there are empty fields, plant them with greenery. Where there is division, heal them with understanding. Where there is transgression, calm the perpetrators' hearts with humility. Where there is defeat, open up their eyes to works far beyond self.
Let them see the beauty of your hopeful children; of your toothless but happy people sweltering in heat; of that lone fruit standing immaculately in a dank place as a testament to your promising abundance.
Let your people soar beyond their imagination; populate your streets with your artistic talents; treat your errant inhabitants with an appreciation for truth.
Least you shall be failed, bear the insight that your people never intend to inflict harm on your statehood.
You are indeed a pearl worth the fight; a prized catch to foster that beautiful map in an even existence where responsible citizenship, artistic integrity and right to self-evolvement is forever protected.
Your people has spoken. Not loudly this time but in fighting back those who had backtracked you.
Move forward country.
Step boldly into the future with your citizens embracing you like their precious wombs.
Give birth to a new horizon where the beauty of work is rewarded justly, fairly and aesthetically.
Your citizens love you enough to rise above their self-imposed cages and resisting minds.
Breathe, breathe country: you have a right to be productively free.
Yours Truly,
A Concerned Citizen