User talk:Gil samaco jr: Difference between revisions
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Razorflame (talk | contribs) m Reverted edits by 122.144.118.193 to last version by Closedmouth (HG) |
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"He was The only writer in Cagayan de Misamis; was a young boy who wrote poetries using |
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our dialect. Oh, how will I forget the way he reminded me when the American forces battled |
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the forces of General Nicolas Capistrano, but many thought he vanished with the gunpowder |
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that blasted the cannonballs of both forces, and many thought he vanished for good. When in |
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fact, he fled the scene of an almost impossible escape when the hand of angels pushed him |
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into to steep mountainside that made him unconscious for one hundred and nine days, and he |
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was the only surviving witness of the war and his papers, along with the poetries, burned |
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by the Americans who wanted to distinguish the unprepared revolutionary crafters. It was |
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painful of course, but the jesuits must smoothen the way. Of course, they must.There were |
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thorns that had stung the Moors, they ruled these lands before, but they cannot accept the |
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legitimate change that time shed. They wanted to resurrect their kingdom because they too, |
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and their culture, were ruins now of history, but no kingdom ever stood without falling. |
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This too, is God's design." |
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Why would the People believe him, an ordinary young man? Not even in the Moor's point of view. |
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the moor stopped to understand what must become, because they were locked in, |
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You said he fell in a mountainside... last part...the contemplations were in the home of |
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Capistrano where the image of horse , balay ng bato died during the Battle of Agusan hill, |
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when he actually fled in a sanctuary that later became a place visited by people and visions. |
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I don't know whether the Japanese knew how much he was to me. But he was more than that. |
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I remember the terminal because this was the place we last saw each other. |
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> there is a difference, if you said that it is your destiny, and it is your will |
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since it is not our will be God's be done...so if i choose mine, i will keep |
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on revolving without evolving. |
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Manong drew his face closer to the lady, and the tears in her eyes were so filled with |
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purity that she looked as if, she was in her Nirvana. All that was left in history crampled |
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