All is good and quiet. Times like this don't come very often. In this world accustomed to technology, the bliss of just standing on the grassy hills of Carlota---waiting for the sun to come--- comes to me as one of the most fundamental happiness of man. There is a certain metaphor in the forgotten phenomenon of sunrise. It takes 8 minutes for sunlight to reach a dark corner of earth. Eight light minutes--- eight months for man--- for me, to emerge from darkness. Certainly it is darkest before dawn, looking back, it doesn't matter--- the sun is finally here.

It feels like I've slept for many months, awakened only by the soft chirping from the pine trees, the moist scent of morning dews on leaves of grass, softly kicking the moss, still unsure in walking alone, unaided. I am far from the memories of Manila now, that was nothing. This is the soul of my life, and everything is giving me the courage to face the light. For all things are still the same since I left, but they are singing a long forgotten song, alltogether different and familiar.

I am the prodigal son of my being. I thought forgetting my own myself to become part of another is the key to the wonders of this world. For the time being it was, I will always remember the good such a great thing as Love has brought. But as it is, Love is sometimes too much it becomes an anaesthetic to those who can't bear to understand. It makes a soul numb--- for a reason of course: so that it would not break itself apart.

So now I return, my heart prepared for the consequences of my mistakes. I am prepared to honor our pact--- I always have. All I ask is to spare her of your wrath, as your son I humbly ask this. She deserves all the happiness in this world

This is my beginning, a beginning of all things new. And I vow to fight for those who love me without end.