When Beauty Devours

This is a retelling of the Filipino folktale Bakunawa and the seven moons.

Seven moons. Seven silvery orbs dancing in the abyssal void we call heaven. Maybe Bathala loves beauty... who doesn't? Anything beautiful is easier to love, after all. But seven? That can either be a testament to his arrogance or obsession... but who knows? I am merely a mortal of dump soil, a product of mortal lust and duty, who am I to cast judgment on a God? Yet... this arrogance. Errr ignorance of mine never knows when to halt..., with my brows of ravens bent downward and my sweat sliding down by bronze back, when I know not how to write nor how to dance, where my life is only dedicated to the land my father and his father before him sow, in my head I screamed that our Gods are as mortal as we are. It is truly a shame... for you to have the universe at your beck and call, for you to be the creator of all but your heart has the same blood that flows to those mortals you created. The greatest sin of a god is for them to be so... human. How dare you call yourself a god if you succumbed to the beauty a man succumbed to?