Nobody knew,
Nobody heard,
Nobody saw,
Nobody felt,
Nobody could have imagined.

Crying silent tears,
Calling for us silently,
Lost in a world of silence,
Your soul imprisoned by silence,
Your mind intoxicated in silence,
and your heart silently stops beating.

Why? Is the question I ask in respectful silence: it holds true that life is just as much saying goodbye, as it is saying hello – even if those goodbyes are at times inaudible, or, silent.

Krissa: your warmth, love, and compassion will always be with us. Never will we forget the times past. May your soul Rest in Peace.

A man in my position is expected to wear a mask for so long that he forgets who was beneath it. Please excuse my rigidity as I attempt to balance masculinity and honesty within one swift maneuver of the pen – and all this, without a single iota of help. They said that speaking of romance and matters of the heart would make a man weak… On the contrary, it only makes a man more passionate in times of war. When we could only be as strong as the woman that raised us, my tears wet this paper like the rain wets the ground. Like an embryo in the secrecy of a womb, I was held incommunicado for a predefined period of time. Here, I reveal a manuscript, perhaps naively, to delineate an immaculate blueprint of many men within the context of our personas. To shine the light of understanding on the aphotic regions of my heart, to know what makes my brothers suffer dolorous moments in silence during the matutinal hours of the day.

Scientifically, tears are produced when the lachrymal glands’ nicotinic and muscarinic receptors are activated. As a sentient human being in a perceptible world, the tears secreted by these glands are naturally released in times of pain and joy. Tears, which, in the absence of witnesses have absolutely no chance of being wiped away. A man’s tears, however, are manipulated and monopolized by an eternal social taboo. A man cries from within; our tears are not at the eye level, but at the bottom of our hearts concealed in an infinitesimally vacuous space. Alone, where no eyes are open, tears become the prison that introduces a man to himself. In times of pain, we tighten our musculatures under the umbrella of our egos. At the swing of the historical pendulum, we witness another generation surrounded by hearts of stone, in cities of stone, stoned in their quest to seek alternative avenues of meaning. In life, many are nothing more than a spectator – an anonymous face in the back of an opaque discotheque, in the midst of disturbed visages in the smoke. Here I see my brothers trying to maintain a façade in the limelight, but weeping silently with each his own story never foretold; narrated only in the subconscious because you simply never saw the pain in his eyes.

We all became an outward mirror of an inner condition; the helpless victims of random childhood events fated to plunge memoryless into an adulthood whose every aspect grew daily more obscure. The modern world has shamed us; our souls extensively marinated in the culture of speed – systematically desensitized, fractionized, and homogenized by the umbrage of mutual misunderstanding. Opting for solitude rather than allowing love to take its course, we suffer an emotional impairment that disables us from trusting one another. Thus, we enunciate our frustrations like the victims of a broken promise. It is as though our best efforts could never appease the wounds that lie within, clinching to emotional addictions that refuse to satisfy the heart’s vacuity. Hastening our own demise as we look for substitutes in a heavy patina of ephemeral relationships, we’re absent in our presence, we’re surrounded yet alone, slowly sinking into a dense miasma of longing. It’s here that we try to exist, engulfed by an unrequited sentiment of loss; an ironic feeling of not knowing what we’ve lost.

Mystified by competing priorities and unable to escape these worldly superficialities, many men run out of money chasing women, but never run out of women chasing money. Succumbing to vanity and eroding moral absolutes, we become opportunists seeking to be emotionally honest. In anticipatory salivation we are transformed into cut-throat desperadoes leeching for substitutes. But there are no replacements – most are left to stand alone in the darkness as love endlessly eludes them; a state of mind bearing resemblance to the times when you missed that special someone so much, you wanted to reach out and pull them out of your dreams.

The Mathematics of Love
Love – the word itself is often vocalized in vain. For a man, its power is often underestimated, antagonized and countermanded in his every effort. Too many refused to believe that when a man truly loves a woman, she will become the reason he smiles. Each day, he embraces her with an abundance of brio just as the sun caresses the sea. Effortlessly transforming fear into assurance, loneliness into companionship; the most unselfish act indeed. So here I am, writing my messages in code – no need for words, we passed each other silently only to look back when the moment was just right. Romantically hesitant, just like the wind; you felt it, but you could not see it. My heart could not beat without the rhythm of yours. I was enamored, bibulously soaking in your presence as the light from the crevice of your room reflected into mine. Alas, I had reminded myself to dash ahead and never look back, but in my weakness, my knees trembled at the reminiscence of souvenirs long-expired.

Mathematically speaking, I failed as to solving the mysterious equation of love. I wanted to subtract myself from this equation so that I could divide the pains from the joys and multiply the result, while adding another chapter to my book of trials. The geometry of love is complex, as though the angularity of our human nature lacks a vital measurement in the pursuit of our common hypotenuse. As I integrate myself over the interval of having written this text, I derive relationships between the symbols and variables appearing in my life – tediously pondering when I will reach my limit as I approach infinity…I remain terribly remiss in such affairs; the solution seems to be far from numerical, far removed from being the sum of finite quantities. Perhaps, this equation was never intended to be solved…

Despite my many failures, under an ominous sky I stand alone, non-branded and free-flowing. Even ends have beginnings; everything must be told in sequence and in context. Today, a sudden intake of fresh air invokes a caesura of pure awe plummeting towards the illuminated windows of my soul. Tomorrow, my memories alone produce a salubrious effect on my spirit. Each and every day, I’m existing to cherish a few amative moments under the candlelight, pristine conversations below the canopy free of self-induced agony. Safe and sound, because we knew from the very beginning that freedom is having nothing to prove in this life…

My Will

…Writing this at a time so still that 2007 seemed not to have begun at all. It’s amazing how much one can remember just by trying – whether remembering the past or dreaming of the future, it’s become clear to me that in hindsight, I’ve acted fallaciously. It’s a shame that I’ve gravitated so far across the globe without explanation. I could feel myself ebbing away from what means most, the hearts I’ve left behind, the numerous birthdays and anniversaries missed, the birth of children growing up and learning to dream, the tender moments by your side…Everything I touch and see embodies a reflection of your spirits, a fresh reminder of these depredations. Now I can only live our moments through photographs long expired. Tormented by ideas which refuse to settle into words, I’ve managed to accumulate a verbal holocaust, in hopes that you will take my words as a sign of contrition. I fragmented my obligations to you the day I promised never to turn away, so it is with deep anguish that I write this apology.

Nobody can face the world with his/her eyes open all the time and nobody said the transition from fear to love is easy. The system doesn’t build great men, it only kills great men. While managing my identity in a world that wants to define it for me, I would have become another statistic if it wasn’t for the fact that I couldn’t stop myself from being. The perversity of misguided individuals compelled me to travel the globe in search of truth, and truth alongside its infinite questions is what I found. A golden year, in which I kept a low profile, often asocial, I was transformed by an environment in which multiple, often conflicting forces were accelerating simultaneously. I had to confirm my underlying assumptions about the commonality of humanity and come to terms with my lack of nationality, or transnationality. In respectful silence I confined myself to absolute solitude and became the apex of an isosceles triangle, supported equally by twin pillars of flesh and blood. In the darkness, I laid unphotographed. The foundation of my existence, the pain I suffered internally translated itself into tears that poured into an eternal abyss; an affliction that only finishes to run its course in the deepest of sleep.

Mind assassination, is how I would elucidate the messages delivered in the exotic simplicities of nomadism. Notwithstanding, the message was clear: I had to love myself before I could love others. I’m certainly not suggesting that the struggle was over then and there, but the vertebrae of freedom lied between the lines of that message, with the final chapter yet to be written. By redefining my purpose on earth one time after another, I was able to find a modicum of peace – an aggrandizement of my entire raison d’etre. Fortuitous encounters cultivated a constellation of irreplaceable friendships across the seven continents, where we evolved, became truly autonomous individuals, and remained mentally active. Our efforts were never unicellulate; we spoke with dignity and eloquence, and sought refuge in a locale where we could discuss peace against those who sanctioned violence. A sound analysis of society’s specious entities, with an extensive exposition to a broad range of human behavior revealed that more often than not, we lived in a world supported by the antithesis of freedom. To mend the wounds of mental slavery, I remain embarked on a near-impossible mission of creating freedom for ourselves and others. We don’t settle for mediocrity in the pursuit of success, well aware that success is merely psychological. My general opinion of such matters has been voiced long ago, expectorated in my erstwhile monologues. Immersed in my autobiographical enterprise, I exist to learn from my infinite mistakes and teach thereafter, all this to fight the battles worth fighting, to synthesize our horizons so that they may continue to reach the far corners of this earth.

It is today that in front of you, I stand ill-at-ease. Despite my multitudinous trials, the artificial distance that exists between you and I has become the hiatus of my life, the centerpiece of my existence. Like a bruise that refuses to fade, I’m at the mercy of your healing acceptance. My only solace, are the quintessential memories of your love for me…It is through the countless near-death encounters that I’ve become fully aware of my fragility, my impermanence, and the finite quantity of time at my disposal. So it is here that I also write my will and obfuscate no further to prosaically express my apologies. With the little possessions I have, I bow at your feet and surrender my life efforts to you, to love, to family, to friends, to humanity, and to infinity. The essence of these words seeks to act as comforter in times of change, and servile to your every need. All this to fulfill my filial exigencies and bequeath to our children a respect for the egoless purity of mind. Only then, can they transcend beyond the world of superficialities. And only then, can they be taught how to dream and live Luther King’s dream amongst their peers and loved ones. Birth and death, the dualism of my life is univocal and infinitely simple; to put vision into reality and take steps towards our final destiny. All in hopes that once again, you can trust me like you trust gravity.

She came into my life as quickly as I could lose my life. When I thought love had escaped my side once again, there she was, with the verb in full action. And there I was, slowly melting in her arms as the warm kisses cushioned by her luscious lips carried me into a metaphysical heaven. In this heavenly realm is where I discovered the most beautiful human being to have touched my heart. Like a blessing from infinity built in the image of relative perfection, her very presence redefined the word beauty in terms of moral character. While actresses attempted to lure me away from the truth, our joint presence exposed honor in times of obscurity, compassion in times of hostility, and sovereignty in times of subjugation. We dreamt of faraway lands never forgetting where we came from, because where we come from has determined where we are going.

And so here I go again, the same Ason unchanged at the core, deservingly losing her to natural human tendency. A tendency that will surely bring her happiness, as she puts herself out of parallel with my mundane character. I’m only left with these words to serve as a testament to our experience and gratefulness for our bond… I wanted her to know I’m there for her, I wanted to tell her how much she means to me, I wanted to tell her what life means to me, I wanted her to know that everything will be okay… But now that there is physical distance between us I only have these sweet memories forever scorched into my mind, reminding me of her heart close to mine, beating to the sound of infinite connection…

There are times when it is wise to become invisible. Like the period after sundown when the light has dissipated and the activity left over from the light of day continues to radiate translucently. When the shadow of foolishness reigns, it is best that any vibrancy remain hidden, that thoughts and efforts remain quiet and self-contained, protected from harmful external influences.

So it’s under this very premise that I seek refuge in reformation – a reformation to be completely autonomous without sacrificing the dignity of our loved ones. In tandem, we maintain a low profile on the public scene but a high prerogative in world affairs. Here on this globe, where I’m judged by my appearance by those that don’t appear to be the judge, my natural instincts succumb to the lure of nature in an attempt to decipher the politics from the politricks. Everyone is in search of the meaning of life; meanwhile, I travel foreign lands to keep my phonetics versed in multiple tongues. This is the first major step of a long journey, where the pages of my texts are dedicated to the blood of the next man to fall unjustly. To be an individual means to deliberately expose one’s self to change, to ignore what people are saying but to understand what they mean. The concept of meaning itself is the very foundation of building something out of nothing…

Freeing myself through these written words, you know very well that the day I stop writing is the day my soul is at peace. It’s the art of using the same words to create new meaning, for my opponents come in various forms, with the largest of them residing in the mind. Morally, I need this to evolve and live simply, so that others may simply live. We all grew up in a sphere of distraction that rotates around the globe at the speed of light and pulls us away from our lives. Hence, I’m not here to change others; I’m only here trying to change myself in the image of righteousness; knowing that I may be leaving soon, the same way I appeared here, slowly conjugating one verb at a time to make my escape for a new chapter in this book of life.

A silent death is marked by the tear in my left eye; to my ancestors I dedicate this most recent breath as a symbol of my efforts to give back to the people that brought us into this world. A mother to us all, you were a representation of the glimpse of the love that is remnant in our lives. Love was the word that held us together, and the ones that love you most will be there by your side to endure the pains of your century-long existence. I reminisce upon the day I was dazed by the fumes negativity and thrown into obscurity. My only escape was to recognize you in my mother’s face – a visage linking history to present-day. But at present, I see tears in my mother’s eyes, pouring superfluously into an acidic substance that burns into my soul. Let us learn from you; the one-hundred and four year legacy of your spirit fills the center of my empty heart.

Nellie, vous êtes toujours dans nos coeurs. R.I.P.