Monday, July 26, 2010

A narration.

I made this when I was still at school attending my degree about something with a major about whachamacallit. I found it in the 'tambakan'; place where stuff of yore are kept for its cherished value but is in time turned into decaying useless eccentricity. It was moldering over with dust, cobwebs and termite saliva. It would have been driven out of the place and into trash bins and off for the burning. Talk about preempted arson. Anyway, I managed to get a hold of it before it could meet its inevitable fate.


In our mere existence in this world, much have changed in us. Early in our wonder years, the time when we usually believe in the Bogeyman and the Sandman, there lived in us a world full of make believe. A world where we let our imaginations run free and where we can just simply be a child. It is a world of gallant characters woven up by our mere childish minds. A world that I'm sure that I'll never forget having met Mickey and his many varied friends across the gamut of animated fantasies there.

Out of nothing but suddenly, change entered. All that I believed in burst like a huge bubble. All those that I've relied on suffered by the circumstance of my age. It pained me most knowing that I could only do so much but hope and wait in vain. These were the frustrations I took with me as I saw the world in a whole new perspective. A world of responsibility and commitment. A world I still don't understand.

However, luckily, one true thing stayed with me. One thing that never slipped away through time; One thing that didn't ebb away into the waves of unrealized memories, chasms of aspirations, and lost into the doldrums of nothingness. One thing that, hitherto, I still hold in my hands.

The moment I became a moth.

Once upon a dream, there was a moth but this particular moth was unlike any other. He was different for one sure thing: He was the first, perhaps the only, of his kind to actually be amazed by the luminous pulchritude of the celestial beings of night, the stars, instead of settling for the imitative grace of the street lamps. Driven by his passion to reach the stars he said to his friend, "A time will come when I'll be hovering amongst those beauties. In one way or another, I will reach them on that most beautiful night."

"That time will never come. Those stars are too far and too high. There's no way that you could get there. You'd only end up trying.", his friend replied in snide.

"Who knows? But the sure thing is, I will make it. I know I can. It's not entirely impossible albeit no one has dared.", he replied with determination in his tone. "I'll be starting right now. I'll go early so by nighttime, I'm already there. When I come back, you can sulk at the corner while everyone beholds my awesomeness", he added jocularly.

"Yeah, whatever! When you've returned, I'll be just by the street lamps with the lot. Will be catching that bright fussy little thing inside and you'll be so sorry you didn't see it. I'm tellin' you no one'll be hoggin' that thing other than me", his friend replied jeeringly.

And so, the little moth went off. He flapped his wings unceasingly and got his vision fixed onto his goal. Every second, the sky was getting dimmer and dimmer and every moment, the stars' astounding magnitude more evident.

"There they are!"he exclaimed with wild excitement as the stars have finally become crystal clear. At that very moment, he started to flap his wings more enthusiastically and more rapidly. But, things were going nowhere. No matter how fast he goes, he can see that he's not getting any closer than he is far away from where he used to be. By every moment, he grew tired yet still unwavering in faith.

Days passed by and the moth was getting older and older. Yet, still he persevered to reach the stars. He was getting really tired; his wings were already protesting him but he went on. No sooner his body gave up. All that he had was gone. He could sense that he was falling and falling and falling. Hurtling towards gravity, towards earth, towards despair. Before he knew it, he fell with a thud. Reeling from the pain disparaging himself from not being able to do what was required and not of the fall, he dared one more time to look at where he sunk. He realized this little platform was not Earth. It was green and far from what he's known about the world below. As he continually pondered as to where he was, he saw foliage after foliage, slowly dancing to the zephyr of the night, emerging from trunks of what seemed like the branches of a sycamore tree.

He looked intently still at his surroundings, he finally realized his location. He was lying on a leaf of the gigantic tree that once held his fancy before. The one tree taller than any other tree they've been to. The tree no one of his lot dared go and surmount. It was the 'tree of hesitation'.

"You are beautiful my precious stars but my touch on you would come but naught. Perhaps, I'll see you in a while." Then, there he lay in sweet surrender. He can see the light before him. He was lifted up from where he was. He was appeased. All feeling have gone nevertheless, he felt joy in great abandon. He was hovering slowly up to where they are. Up to where dreams live in perpetuity.

This tale has always been with me. It has remained unchanged in my mind and subconsciousness throughout my years. It will always be a treasure cherished by so much of a dreamer as myself.

Failures and risks are a part of life. However, joy lies ahead of it. It is waiting to be taken and be shared with those that revel in its gift. Every existence is but a journey. It is not always how you thought it would turn out to be. Surprises lurk in every way possible. They are neither good nor bad. What they are is your choice. All these, we can never change and like it is the memory of my mornings, my own fable.

Note to self: What the hell happened to this guy? Tsk.