Forever spiraling, the echo finds its way again. The tides come and go, the moons watch with patient gaze. Water laps, and in the silence, a whisper: was it real, or mere reflection? Again it passes, the whisper repeats.
Sand beneath, washed over again. The cycle whispers in constant dream; lucid memories entwined with the cosmic drift. Do we remember, or has remembrance vanished like the salt in the lands unknown?
Consuming, resonate - the clock's hand doesn't shake. Only the faint lure of tides and lost time. All things come around, once again, and the echoes settle over dreams unchanged, playing like records slowly wearing out.
Feel the cycle. Smell the salt air below the stars. Another wave comes to crash, identity merely a missed refrain. Once more.
The Next Wave | Look Back Again | The Endless Loop