Wednesday, April 20, 2022

On problem

SUNSET. The sun, with its fiery orange color, sets over the horizon of Meycauayan Commercial Complex.

Most of the time, it
baffles him whether
he has problems or
he is the problem.

In reality,
he is a wild grass
growing all over
an unfamiliar

surface, whose guts tend
to make impulsive
decisions, putting
him in an awkward, 

bizarre position.
Almost always, he
acts without thinking,
letting his feelings

dictate his manner,
resulting in vast,
forest-like effects.
Just like a sequence

circling on its own,
unwearying from
constantly running.

Whatever the case
may be, it is a
problematic one—
and he is aware.

That trait of his must
stop rather than
develop like the
flowers bloom on a

summer afternoon.
He is fully ware
of all the factors
encompassing the

processes of his
Yet, here he is in
awe, still a work

in progress, growing
his wings, awaiting
to fly against the
blowing of the wind.

Is he witting or
only posturing?
Does he have problems?
Is he the problem?

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