>>99891226Beneath the depths where silence thrived,
Where coral palaces once survived,
There stirred a wrath, an ancient flame—
Gawr’s fury, wild and without name.
A canyon torn by rage unbound,
Split open deep beneath the sound.
From prisoned crust, the fire broke free,
And magma met the mourning sea.
Atlantis—proud, now wreathed in ash,
Engulfed in one volcanic flash.
The molten breath, a vaporous tide,
That seared all life it brushed aside.
And should that breath not end your days,
Then steam would cook in crueler ways.
The deep-born fire reached above,
As if to burn the skies thereof.
From ocean's wound, the tsunamis rose,
Two kilometers of watery throes.
They struck the lands with violent grace,
And tore the world’s familiar face.
The coasts were choked with toxic mud,
A sludge of death, a boiling flood.
Ash-covered shores lay grim, diseased,
And even time seemed paused, unpleased.
But still it rose—the smoke, the cry,
To claw the sun out from the sky.
The storm winds howled through shattered air,
With hurricanes that knew despair.
Across the world the ashes flew,
On winds that no one ever knew.
The ocean’s pulse would never mend,
Its ancient paths brought to an end.
This was no death of all mankind,
But of the world we left behind.
A wound not fatal, yet profound—
A scream that shakes both sea and ground.
So let this tale remembered be:
The sea is not always serene and free.
For what we lost, and what remains,
Was forged in fire, ash, and chains.
