Alunsina's Return

There came a time when his grief,
so long held at bay, finally
shattered into storms of sorrow so vast
that it poured in seemingly endless torrents
down the lands and oceans which teemed
with the life he had created,
that Tungkung Langit himself, lord
of earth and sky, could only just fold
unto himself. He became the blanket
of darkness that covered the sun, so that night and day
turned into one seamless lapse,
and all that was known of time fell
away into one confused heap of endlessness.

His regret rained down in sheets,
his cries thundered into the endless night,
his fury, the lightning that shafted across the horizon, cutting the sky
into momentary twilights. And soon, everywhere
was heard the sound of sorrow, for all things
wept as the god did the. The tallest mountains stood
wearily against the beating wind, flowers
and trees cowered in fear
at the deluge of anger, of despair,
and the sounds of woe echoed across creation-
for Alunsina, the lost one, who had disappeared
the day Tungkung Langit fell at her with his wrath,
so that no more songs were heard,
and only empty sighs lingered across
the stars, which were her jewels,
echoes that hung upon the lonely moon,
which was her comb, upon which was suspended
a cloak of seemingly eternal darkness.

But at last, across the lapping waves of the ocean, a soft whistle
was heard, so that the tide mellowed
at the moon's bequest for quiet,
the better to hear the enchanting sound.
It was that of a flute, lovely and sweet,
balm to anger and all things destructive,
music that soothed the storm into submission,
as only Alunsina's hand could tame water
and it was she, now, who came walking
with the dawn, for at last time had again
let itself in with the first rays of the sun.
At the sound of her footsteps, the sky
rumbled into silence, as sudden
as Tungkung Langit's first cry had come, for now
he had stopped his sobbing, and with breath held,
he listened to the glide of softness
stealing in with the morning.

Afraid to look (for what if it were not
she?), he did not see how the horizon
had once more put sea and sky back in place,
yet he heard the wind now quiet down
at a bird's soft cooing, heard how the things he had created
now bowed in gentle reverence and gratefulness
and he knew, at last, that Alunsina's was the hand
that touched his wearied shoulders,
the hand that drew him back into daylight,