The Bermuda Triangle Poem by Mario, Lucien, Rene Odekerken

A place where maps falter,
where compasses spin
like dancers lost in a rhythm
they cannot escape.

The sea stretches endless,
its surface calm,
its depths unknowable,
a silent maw waiting.

Ships vanish,
planes dissolve into sky,
their echoes swallowed
nu waves that remember nothing.

The horizon taunts,
offering direction
while erasing its trace,
a fragile promise
of return.

Here, logic drifts
like flotsam,
and answers sink
without sound.