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This is the blog of Ian Rosales Casocot. Filipino writer. Sometime academic. Former backpacker. Twink bait. Hamster lover.

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Saturday, December 04, 2004

entry arrow2:48 PM | Breaking


He was my North, my South, my East and West,

My working week and my Sunday rest,

My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;

I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;

Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;

Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.

For nothing now can ever come to any good.

-- From W.H. Auden, "Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone"

He was a true guiding light, beautiful, and without whom I would have gotten lost in a year steep in shadows. And for that, I know there will be no equivalent to this pain, something sharp and final that it burrows to my very soul. M., thank you so much for everything. The only gladness I cling to now is the fact that despite everything, we know we still love each other. I love you, baby. And here's to both our lives.

[0] This is Where You Bite the Sandwich