In the breath of the ocean's sigh, where the silver moon sinks low,
upon the lull of a timeless sea—a compass made of dreams.
Each star, a guidepost, each wave, a lullaby haunting the soul's quiet shores.
Follow them, the echoes say, follow the tarnished light.
Were you ever lost in the mist of an afternoon's slumber?
Feet bare upon forgotten paths, where whispers tell of realms unseen—
tread lightly, or never at all. Certainties dissolve in moonlit reverie.
The guiding tide, gentle against jagged whispers of the night,
caresses those who dare to dream wide awake.
Each current, a story ready to unfold; fragments of lullabies yet sung.