Among the dusky calm where time unwinds its grasp, a discord rises.
The tidal echo: a harmony played in reverse, a silent symphony of waves.
Here, old questions ripple outward, ever expanding, consuming.
What is it to become only to fade back, akin to the moon's dance with the ocean's heart?
Recall the morning's mist whispered secrets upon your brow,
remnants of joy locked in a melody that never was, nor ever will be.
What do echoes recall when they sing amidst the chaos of a looped tide?
Are they truths wrapped in whispers of forgotten melodies, uneasy in their descent?