Every storm a serenade,
Every breeze a requiem.

Lightning carves ghosts into the howling sea,
Thunder wails, a dirge for the lost.
Salt flays tongues, flesh peels raw,
The sky splits like an open wound.

The ship screams—masts snap like bones,
Canvas wings shred, torn like flesh.
The deck ruptures, wood explodes,
A body flung to waves like stones cast aside.

Saltwater slams—violent, cold as iron,
Lungs choke on brine, limbs thrash in chaos.
Air vanishes in one burning gasp,
And the surface is gone, forgotten above.

Flash.

Stormlight pierces the dark, teal slicing blackness—
For an instant, mountains rise and crumble,
Water crashing, breaking without mercy,
Turbulence without end, fury without meaning.

Pressure crushes bones, salt gnaws deeper,
Lungs drown, limbs fail, falling faster now.
No above, no below, no bottom in sight,
Only the endless, indifferent abyss.

The storm’s voice fades to distant thunder,
A song unfinished, waiting to be joined.

The air shifts—warm, golden, and still,
Salt-kissed wind caresses skin like silk.
The sea stretches, glassy, unmoving,
A mirror reflecting eternal noon.

The water does not breathe, nor does it stir.
Sunlight halts—time pauses its heartbeat.
Wind hums softly, fills hollow places,
Lingering gently, infinitely patient.

Here, no violence, no storm, no scream—
Only the whisper of silence, gentle, unbroken.
Yet the stillness waits, vast and endless,
Merciful or merciless, it does not reveal.

Every storm a serenade,
Every breeze a requiem.