Scarlet Stab And Water Wheezes Poem by Bernard F. Asuncion

The salt-stung wind, a ragged thief, stole whispers
from the edge of my coat, the ocean's breath, a heavy sigh.
Crimson bled across the horizon, a raw wound in the sky,
the sun, a molten coin, slipped through grasping cloud-fingers.

Each wave, a restless beast, clawed at the shore,
a rhythmic, thunderous pulse, like a drumbeat of despair.
My thoughts, scattered shells, broken and smooth,
lay exposed, mirroring the tide's relentless retreat.

The sky, a canvas of bruised violet and burning orange,
a dramatic stage where light wrestled with encroaching dark.
Memories, like phantom ships, sailed across the churning sea,
their sails tattered, their masts splintered, their cargo lost.

A sudden chill, a skeletal hand on my shoulder,
reminded me of the fleeting dance of light and shadow,
the ephemeral beauty, the inevitable decay.
And I wondered, as the last sliver of sun vanished,
if the ocean's vastness mirrored the emptiness inside, or if it was simply a reflection of the endless possibilities that remain.