mouth to hand existence has always been the day to day scenario, never was there an instance when ordinary folks could enjoy the lavishness of life or the joys of pure relaxation offered by the gift of night. always and since time in memorial, majority of the marginalized Filipino neither have the luxury of time to veer away from their pitiful lot to enjoy the ordinary harvest of their labor, the happiness of companionship and the euphoria an upbeat society rather experiences of rigor or hardship has permeated the cycle of his existence. one cannot overlook the misery swamped over an environment filled with despondency and, yes, spite.
such is the existence of Juan de la Cruz, a man endowed will illusory birthrights, devastated and innocent of the malice from whom he considers his master. such is his condition that there is no reason to defy nor question the authority replete within the man he renders obeisance. such loyalty, such ignorance. not a day passes by where he does not offer sweat and tears to the soils of the earth. the winds are the witness of his struggle and strife, the rain soothes the heat of his body, his labor does not cease all day all night. all for one thing, survival, subsistence.
now comes the master, a glutton in his own right. his mansion of gold reflects the light of the sun. he enjoys the grandeur of popularity. he sleeps under the comforts that is rivaled only by those of royalty. his treasures colossal, golds, silver, name it and he's got it. he is safeguarded by a platoon of armed henchmen ready to smash at the behest of the master. unswerving loyalty, indeed but not to the master, but to the gold.
this story alludes to something common to a society, need i tell you the decadence and inequality of our country? i will leave you hanging here, it is up to you how you end the story. frankly, mine would have had the status quo retained, posturing a dim view of the future.
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