The Turbulent Tide, Part 2

The waters churn with mournful cries, A tide that pulls, a fate that binds. No shore in sight, no breath to keep, Only the dark, the endless deep. The waves consume what time forgets, A grave of wrecks, of bones and debts. No hand remains to mark the past, Only the current, fierce and vast. The hollow winds still howl and weep, For souls the ocean swore to keep. Their whispers rise, then fade away, Like fleeting ghosts of drowning day. And when the storm has spent its breath, The tide still claims, it sings of death. No light remains, no sound, no grace, Only the depths—its cold embrace.