The mind drifts in the tide, where whispers beneath the surface swell. Salty echoes forming a tapestry of quietude. Here, memories drift like jellyfish, luminosities in the dark. Shimmering, unseen yet felt as the brine tingles on phantom skin.
In this concealed ocean, voices of the forgotten ripple through the water. Each thought a grain of crystalline sand, layering upon layers, forming shores of thought. The currents sing stories, spectral and unseen, beneath the woven cloak of night.
One might wonder about the vessels adrift, shadows without anchors, borne on dreams' currents. They know not where they wander. To the depths below, where silence is a lullaby, and the darkness embraces with serenity as loud as thunder.