By Luis G. Dato
Our days in swift succession bid us on
To these unchartered, desolate domains,
Where over deserts strewn with the remains
Of unreturning caravans long gone,
We follow trails that, winding, go astray
Into the dull horizon. We know not
What ending’s there, what fortunes be our lot,
When tired and spent we reach our destined way.
We only know that with each onward move,
We leave behind us friends we cherished most,
Old friends, who, un-sustained, their path have lost,
Warm hearts that, hoping, beat for those they love.
We know that time relentless bids us on
To stranger lands, only to dead men known.
— Philippine Magazine, July 1926