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Rated: E · Poetry · Fantasy · #2196391
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
© Copyright 2019 Doctor Topher (doctor-topher at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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