a gentle sea, beryl and lucid.
the pale sails gently flap in the zephyr
and the hull of the boat speaks in low tones as the waves cradle
its sides, seafoam lapping at the white painted-on letters.
the sunlight was calm and bright,
made watery surrounded by all this sea.
clouds pulled apart into wisps, swathes of spiderweb,
and the sky beneath is washed out and pastel blue.
the ocean's sighs grow sadder as the
past lives and past deaths reawaken wrath like no other.
but this is no paradise.
wide eyes and the ocean swells threw the galleon into the
next wave, walls of water surging and crashing.
the yells of the crew, clinging like thorns to their lives and
water surges again,
the eye in the crow's nest sending an excited shout down
to the half-drowned rats clutching desperately to their lifelines.
"aye, the harbor! we're going home, boys!"
but where is the lighthouse tonight?
no beacon shone, and
darkness wore the biggest smile.
surprise. the ship screamed.
more cries, breath ripped away
dropping like stones into the hungry sea,
overboard. overboard. overboard.
vengeful reefs hid with submerged rocks,
had ripped and tore into the ship.
wooden skeleton gutted like a fish and
none of the bodies came back to the surface.
the ocean swallowed them all, life engulfed by the anger.
and the extinguished lighthouse stood sentinel.
the tales of old and new and
the sea is gentle, cruel.