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Friday, July 30, 2010

The Virgin Hours

Commuting to Eastwood for work, early as usual because everything doesn't need to change simply because now I contribute to foot traffic and not to road chaos, I find bliss arriving early and walking in the soft sunlight of the morning - one with the early risers and shop openers and delivery van drivers and delivery boys and street sweepers. The peaceful rhythmn of the mopping of floors without the boss looking. The contentment in the heart shining through the middle-aged man's face while unloading cases of beer from the truck. The cheerful swishing of water on the pavement as the utility man cleans the outdoors of the bar by the park.

When will people of metropolis discover this beauty? When will the executives and housewives and businessmen stop frowning over traffic, cursing road freaks each morning they can't control EDSA?

The world is beautiful in the morning, the virgin hours of the day. The gift it brings to life is life's gift to us. And I thank God I am humbled.

Here I am going Villa-esque again.


  1. Nature's first green is gold
    Her hardest hue to hold.
    Her early leaf's a flower;
    But only so an hour.
    Then leaf subsides to leaf.
    So Eden sank to grief,
    So dawn goes down to day.
    Nothing gold can stay.

    Robert Frost