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The shipwreck and salvation of the boy Ildran. |
*Note: I still have a few lines to add at the end in addition to some punctuation. They will be added soon! It might have been the dawn of time, Or else twas God's most heinous crime. (Though some might say they're both the same, But to that we'll return again.) We're told that when the world was new There was naught but the waters blue That churned and chopped in chaos, rending Order from the earth. Unending Blackness stretched the starless skies With heaven masked in a disguise More horrible than man's worst dream: To all below God did not seem Alive. Abandoned, all alone. Tormented waters scream and moan Against the wind that tumults so Where e'en God's Spirit would not go. On this forsaken sea of gloom, Man's hubris meets its sullen doom: The frightened form of mast and sails Against primordial forces fails. The fair ship, Adalay, was not Meant to weather rise and drop Of waves so high that threatened to Drown both the passengers and crew. No shouts were heard above the sound Of deafening voice the wind had found, Though shout they did. But most were pleas To God to calm the raging seas. But God did not this mayhem cause, For he would not mess with the laws That govern how the world turns. No, others choose when ocean churns. Their fame forgotten from our song, They're led by vengeance-filled Gong Gong, Who in the dawn of the Far East Ravaged land and man and beast With flood. To his left, Olokun, Who, warring 'gainst the sky and moon, Destroyed mankind in roaring tide. And Shiva, from whom none can hide. Too, Hahgwehdaetgah's bloody thirst, How to destroy he is well versed, Bringing with him whirlwind Against both righteous and who've sinned. And in the rear Poseidon stood, Commanding as only he could These forces of destructive might In bringing forth eternal night. And so this quintet's fury lashed Against the Adalay. She crashed From wave to wave, her sails now torn From whipping lashes of the storm. The crew soon lost their faith's devotion And in the chaos and commotion Started to abandon ship. As Adalay began to slip Beneath the waters (for a hole Had formed in her well-crafted hull), Poseidon, seeing, surged anew And all the waves around them grew Like mountains topped with foaming snow. The Adalay was sure to go Down to the depths. But there were three Souls still not taken by the sea. They clung fast to the doomed ship's rail, Bracing 'gainst the wind and hail. One was a man, so tall and proud; Two was his wive with grace endowed. But the third was just a boy Who'd yet to feel of love or joy. He was his parents' only thought, And him to save from death did plot. A severed rope his father saw And, bracing 'gainst the tilt and yaw, Grabbed it firm and in much haste Tied it around his young son's waist. The mother, seeing, found a plank As Adalay around them sank And with her husband lashed their son Onto it. Then another one Was tied. And pretty soon their craft Had fashioned him a makeship raft. The Adalay was so far under Water that it was no wonder That the raft began to float Away from that ill-fated boat. There was no time to make another, So the man and wife each other Held, letting the rain trace tears On solemn faces masking fears. And in her last moments, the wife, With the last breath of her life, Shouted o'er Poseidon's fist To her child, saying this: “When to the shore you come at last, I pray to God you will hold fast To truth and honor, as we taught, And to love, deserved or not. Be strong, my son, and stand for truth, Do not be careless with your youth, And when you've learned all you can learn, Then to the Adalay return.” And with that final stern command, The woman took her husband's hand As they were taken to the deep With Adalay in quiet sleep. Poseidon, pleased, this battle won, Called unto his friends, “We're done! Calm the wind, let seas allay For we have sunk the Adalay.” So the water fiends retired And to future storms conspired, Unaware that in their theft Of lives, one soul alive they left. For in the raft so scarcely built That little boy did pitch and tilt Along the surface of the sea. Although by waves much jostled, he Remained securely fastened by The rope his father died to tie. Moreover, all throughout the night, The reeling raft remained upright For his mother so wisely chose Those boards that twisted, bent, and rose Along the waves. And so the child Did float until the waves were mild And soon the clouds above him cleaved. The storm had passed—who'd have believed! The little boy, once storm was done, Fast fell asleep in light of sun For shivering and drenched was he. So just like Moses, peacefully He floated freely, taken where The current pleased. He was aware Of nothing in his fitful sleep Save for the dreadful dreams that creep Into the minds of those who live Through all the worst this life can give. For though his waking mind did not Have strength enough to face the lot That fell to him, his sleeping mind From all the chaos tried to find Some reason, or some greater good Try as it might, try as it could. But if the sleeping mind cannot Find purpose in the battles fought Then caring not what truth might be Lies, fabricating memory For when the waking mind resumes Control, it sees and so assumes Its memories as fact to be For why would one lie knowingly? So as in calmest seas the child Slept on, his mind was so reviled By what it saw, it did disguise The Adalay in many lies. What once was waters without form Was weakened to a puddle's storm And what had been fair Adalay Was lessened to a thing of play. And so the dreadful day was deemed A paltry thing, or so it seemed Now on this day, as light breeze blew A lonely seahawk nearby flew For by last night's quick storm it had Been blown of course. Now it searched mad To find a spot to rest, for land Was nowhere near enough at hand. Soaring far above the water, The seahawk tired as sun grew hotter Its beating wings began to slow As it looked frantically below. Suddenly in came to view A tiny speck upon the blue Of endless sea. It cried a shout And dove. Its luck had not run out. Fifty feet above the speck It spread its wings to slow and check Just what it was and if twas strong Enough to rest upon it. Long He'd traveled so he did not mind That he was not the first to find The small oasis built of wood So he would share it if he could. He landed there without a sound Glad to have found this makeshift ground And peered upon the boy asleep Who did not turn nor make a peep. The seahawk, though he was quite tired Suddenly was much inspired To thank the little human for His sharing of the floating shore. For had the boy's raft not been spied The seahawk would have surely died. So after resting for a spell The proud hawk thought it would be well And courteous to bring his friend Some fish should hunger ever lend Itself to wake him. So the hawk Did quickly find himself a flock Of fish, and one by one he caught A score and to the raft he brought. But it was then the seahawk spied That with tight knots boy was tied So even if from sleep he rose He had no way to untie those. The seahawk with his sharp beak slashed Against the binds that tightly lashed The boy immobile 'gainst the floor Of flotsam. Finished with that chore, The seahawk, proud of all his aid Gave one last gift of thanks: some shade From all the worst that noonday brings By perching near with outstretched wings. His span of seven feet blocked all The heat that burned and baked the small Lost child. And so they rested there, His wings like sails in stillest air. The sun wound down its westward course So waned by some fatiguing force That drove this chariot of days Each gloaming to where night he lays For though creation ceaseless seems It tires still. Just watch the streams With water to the oceans send Still tire at each curve and bend And forests, though in spring they swell With leaves and flowers, fruit as well Yet long before the first frost calls From weary branches all this falls And do not too the mountains tall Both grow at birth and in death fall Their stature bold in timelessness When ages pass hold lifelessness So will not too this earth we know Fall victim to the ebb and flow That guides the rest of nature’s fate In waking early, dying late But from the ashes and the dust Of what has given life to us Will rise a new unsullied land More kin to what Creator planned |