Notebook
By Rado Gatchalian
There are no lines
as figurative as fingerprints
than a purple ink
between borders of heaven and earth.
To whom shall we write?
And he who longs not to suffer
anymore
must endure endless nights
of calling
from those of hundred years
whose love
is equivalent to divine metaphors.
If you keep this piece of paper
like flags of nations
or scribbling clouds ~~~
write your stories
so that tomorrow they will remember
that existence,
more than words,
is but a piece of paper,
fading yet floating in the wind…
so that when it reaches the sky,
you will see your name
written like eighteen dotted lines.
