In the quiet corners of the mind, the tides do not whisper, they roar. Each breath draws in silence, each heartbeat echoes in the void. The pauses between are not empty; they are filled with what remains unspoken.
Perhaps, like the ocean's hidden vortex, we too have layers. Unseen, unfelt—drifting in the undercurrents of consciousness. Buried memories resurface, only to sink again, lost in the depths.
Return, not to find what was lost, but to discover what never was. What do we hold, in the swallow of seconds, in the hush of eternity?