Kuwento, Puna, at Komento
--Flights of a soaring imagination
MALALIM KA PAG TUMITIRA KA NG PURPLE CORN JUICE!
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Tweet Quwie Trutit
Tweet! If I could speak the tongues of angels, I would bridge the gap between the heavenlies and the earth. It will be easy to bring heaven on earth, and earth to heaven. And so much problems would be solved by that. I think it is the right language.
But I can only have wings like an angel's and soar above the earth--not have their tongue. And I do so to protect myself--because those without wings envy us so much and would like to see us fall. Tweet! Papa: "Soaring is enough--it is too much to desire angelic prowess. It is enough to escape to the clouds and be utterly untouched, except by the wind.
Quwie: "But I want to sing." Papa: "Go ahead!" Tweet!
Quwie: "Sing like an angel? I must have an angelic tongue to do that. And as I fly across the globe, my songs will soothe and heal. Then no one will want to see me fall." That's how we are--ever looking young and always idealistic and optimistic about life and the human race. Well, at least most of us, except the likes of papa.
Papa: "With an angel's voice? They will all the more shoot you down! Or keep you in prison in some circus or "perya." People have no tolerance except for their own voice, own opinions, and the noise they create. Just because you can sing and soar, doesn't mean everyone will like you." Tweet!
Will not the world wake up from cruelty and desire never to sleep in it again once they see and hear an angel? Imagination can only reckon so. But papa says, people have no imagination. They only have greed--which they imagine to be imagination. Their language always equates to "Mine and all mine!" Tweet! Well, that's what papa says.
Quwie: "You talk as if you're not human yourself, papa!" Papa sighed and looked afar: "Son, in many ways, I am not. We are not. You feel you're human, and believe you actually are, but you're not. Some dogs and cats believe they're humans, too. And once they do, they also tend to shoot down those who can fly.
Quwie: "Flying dogs and cats?"
"Suffice it to say, son, that soaring is enough. You can only fix your own small world, never the huge, empty world out there--even if you had angelic tongues and their wings to glide swiftly across the human race. Men only marvel at such sights in books and movies. In reality, they curse anything they do not understand, and kill it. You can never tame them with your song, even if you sing like an angel."
Quwie: "How can I bring them healing?" I said that as if healing is the key in saving the world--or at least the human race. I told you, we are idealistic.
"Just soar, my son...we Maya birds are only allowed to soar and sing. That's our lot in life. We're not put here to save the world--or the human race."