Ulysses Hounding the Island of Luzon.

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I woke up with the winds howling, my neighbor's roof guard rattling, a piece of wood falling in my backyard. I listened some more, the rain dropping hard and thick, as if there is no foreseen reprieve from the clear and present danger. I thought, 'Ulysses has come, with the force of a raging hero lost and desperate, unleashing his power, to get home to his Penelope.' I whispered, 'Go away, Ulysses, this is not your turf. Carry your case with Neptune, and depart from my island of Luzon.' I willed myself to rise slowly, wary of what I'd see. A pool of water in my kitchen, a flue from somewhere under, and a leak from the ceiling for another. Sigh! A cup of coffee first, to mobilize the muscles for the mandatory mopping. The news was devastating! Dams have been opened, the rivers have been overran. The people are drenched on top of the houses, a young lad held on a driftwood as the floodwater carried him to nowhere safe. The waters are still overflowing as of this writing. 'Go away, Ulysses, my countrymen are drowning.'