In the repose of ink-dark waters, I ponder:

Does silence sing in this cerebral ocean, more than in the clamorous shores?

Boundless, I drift like autumn leaves on hollow gusts, seeking meaning beneath layer upon layer of sedimented time.

Reflecting in crystalline waters, not as a mere vessel of biology, but as an echo of the fathomless.

Are we, creatures of the abyss, not students of tides, both inner and outer?

Your heart, a squid’s mantle, shelters secrets yet unfathomable, suspended in briny depth.

And as currents tug and tease, I ask: Which path lies true when all seem to unravel in rhythmic flow?