Beneath violets, merging deltas, the rhythm of forgotten litanies hum quietly. Each wave, a scribe; a watery quill, etching unknown narratives upon shifting sands. The echoes, they linger here, in the space between inhale and exhale, unwritten verses.
In realms where dimensions embrace, a silent confluence narrates the whispers of yore. Scripted by the tides, vivid colors bleed into one another, leaving traces of untamed beauty. Listen closely, for within each droplet rests epochs unmeasured, stories unfurling slowly.
Abyssal Whisper Celestial Dance