Listen closely as grains confess secrets of ancient tides.
The whispers become echoes, colliding with the past like a transient lighthouse.
"Don't trust sundials," murmurs a sea creature, its voice embedded in the wind.
The sun melts, a silent volcano on the horizon, bleeding shades only forgotten dreams have known. Shells hide messages, cryptic and charming, woven by currents in abandoned seas.
The sand sleeps under a duvet of stars; tonight, the constellations are daring, rearranging their stories while the moon hums its silver melody, an erratic pulse through sleeping consciousness.