SPEAK O! FELICITOUS LADY!

SPEAK O! FELICITOUS LADY!

Erle Frayne Argonza y Delago

Speak to me, dear Friend!

Are you a ghost—a ghost of Light—

That smashes the granite rocks of masks

I’ve upon myself built with esteem’s cement?

Speak! Lady chronicler of the inner theatres!

Behold! We need no longer pass along

This world’s tortuous roads as our monads fuse—

Yours and mine, mine and yours.

Regain shall I my own pure unbesmirched

Halo of intelligence and will and aspiration:

You are the sacred moment that fertilizes

Again like unto growing buds of verdant lores

This sanctified shadow of my inner theatre.

Speak! Lady of the free spirits!

Quench my thirst for tales of delight!

You are the tale, the bringer of delight,

The ultimate acting being in the Thespian stage.

Receive my swearword: I offer

To you the wakened ghost of mine, once more

To amplify your limitless experiencing of the magic

In the world of humans; my words, planted and grown

[Writ. 19 November 1988, Proj. 8, Quezon City, M.Manila]

THY WILL BE DONE

THY WILL BE DONE

Erle Frayne Argonza y Delago

Whenever the day starts I knock

Upon the doors of Life to request extensions

Of my lease to exist. Not that I

Will be merry forever notwithstanding fears

Tensions and anxieties that arise

In my here-and-now; I’m simply unsure

Of what may be up for me. Well, Life

Responded as always—cheerful, lighthearted,

Contagiously optimistic. I’d catch its air

Of glittering hope, daunting spirit,

Its elan of all elan. The I’d say too,

“Life, please do share unto others what you’re

Offered to me.” “Thy will be done” said Life.

Thy will be done. Done will be

Hope’s cremation of every unwanted carcass

Of Obscurity: faith in self regained.

[Writ. 21 October 1988, Proj. 8, Quezon City, M.Manila]