Echoes of Hollow Trail

Amidst the whispers, a trail not walked, but weaved from the hollow echo. It sings a song of waves, a lullaby resonating with the heartbeats of the deep.

The ocean's mind dreams in currents, in tides that pull at the frail cloth of reality. Distant liners, unseen, uncalled, sailing the void between now and forever.

A light unseen dances below, where pressure builds realms of phantoms.

Where do dreams thus linger, and why do they weep with the pull of the moon?