On the road from Cadiz back to Bacolod,
traveling faster than nostalgia
can catch up with,
I am struck dumb by the changing scenery before me:
cane fields standing erect, at full attention
under the gentle warmth of this good day’s sun
and then shifts to bare land, just recently harvested.
It is faster than my mind can process.
The sky, a watery blue, accentuated by a grand expanse
of playful clouds that refused to be defined
by not staying still.
Everything in nature shifts and changes.
Everything begins as a seed, blooms, and then
eventually falls back to the earth.
I am here, in this car, a passenger
traveling from one moment to the next;
in every way a victim of time and my own choices.
No, not a victim.
This universal force neither rewards
nor takes prisoners.
All that happens between our beginning
and the final moment
has no consequence.
We all share the same fate
in the end.