Mappamundi

The serpent in the bowels of the underworld
shifts in the wind’s four directions:

Katungdan
Amihan
Sidlangan
Bagatnan

Let the trail of its breath
guide the tiller and the rudder,
the lathe and the loom.

Let our tin-can hearts make a din
of our sorrows, our meagre ransom
for the world’s seven moons.

 

In response to Via Negativa: Tintinnabulous.

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