Somewhere in the boundless expanse, the ship of dreams glided, half-fleshed from echoes of whispers, half-sentient with creaks and sighs of forgotten timbers. What anchor binds a ship without port, what sail unfurls when winds sing fables of realms unseen?
Beneath its hull sleeps the infinite abyss, panes of glass and shadow interwoven, each ripple a clandestine verse. Do the stars weep when they watch mariners voyage through dreams, or do they drown in their own wishes long cast ashore?
Unraveled Tales of the Tidal MuseSpeak not of the siren's call, for it weaves a lament of splintering truths upon the heart of those who dare serenade the sea. A chorus is born of solitude, a ballad sung in the tongue of the lonely mariner's ghost.
Do echoes defy time when tethered to melody, or do they simply diminish, seeking refuge in the crescendos of yearning? And what leviathan sways beneath, backing the undertow with unseen hands?
Fragments of Whispers Along Shores Forgotten