(Restive Mayon Volcano suddenly reminded me of a poem I wrote several years ago. This majestic product of geologic design never ceases to amaze me. During times of her fiery fury, I long to be near her to see how she gives us a glimpse of what she is really made of — super-heated, red, molten magma and not dry, grey, cold rock gloriously crowned with white clouds. She is the closest thing we have for a vision of a real dragon. My closeness to her comes from the fact that I was born in Polangui, a small town in Albay not far from Mayon, in 1952. Born in the Year of the Dragon at the feet of a “living dragon” is one awesome thought for me.)
To know you, one has to be born with you; hence, no one ever will -- except the One who formed you from the furious depths of the Earth. Your deep blue mantle rises gently from the lush fields. Puffs of cloudy breath send forth a welcome signal: PEACE! Alone you stand in the restful expanse guarding the skies, the land and the sea. You mask your own fury with perfect bearing -- or do you speak the wrath of others? We stand in awe at the sight of you for we know how many have tasted your judgment. Alas, the call to duty awakens your senses and the rumblings deafen as magma rises. You must S H O U T with the voice of heaven: a danger knell to those who sleep in death. Fiery red veins glow wildly in the night, torrents of molten rocks charge down blindly, smoke, thunder and lightning explode in the air: if this is a show, what more should we see? To know you one has to be born with you: now I know what you mean -- the things you show us from the heart of the Earth reveal the birth of everything.