Waters calmed, never-breached,
success for land's predators just out of reach.
Flock of screeching, overhead,
the burial ground for all that's dead.

The tempest awakens - oh, ever-so-slowly,
gaping maw's opened, continually pulling.
Tonight, the waves make a dance of death,
have no fear, but treasure your last breath.

Pressing, crashing, cacophonic lashing,
destruction by the masses, sincerely smashing.
Mold the shores, shape the bays!
Forever and ever, 'til the end of your days.

The tide recedes, its wince more a lap,
it knows no defeat, proudly 'splays its map.
Tonight, the waves orchestrated their power,
blood's a clear tidal, a variable shower.

Penned by my hand on the 25th of Haernos, in the year 129 MA.