By Rado Gatchalian
i'm leaving the days of my past for the future I do not hold
i'm leaving my children in favour of uncertain dreams and hope;
all my pride I kept it for a while: though before I was the master
of my slaves,
now, i am a slave of many masters - unknown and sometimes mad;
as i carry the woods towards the unseen forest and high mountains
i lift my soul with prayers and footprints of valour;
like many dreamers, i travel with one bag
of strong will
and a pack of hope to a land i do not know,
like all travellers, i wish to spend my days
gathering pebbles from
various spots
and keeping it tough inside my pockets of memories,
like all searchers, i will kiss the moon and clouds
and sing a song only fairies can understand,
as i wander from one point to another
i see a bit of light and a bit of shadow -
like all journey there is no stopover on the road
but only a signpost which says: "Slow Down."
