First, approach the Sundrenched Shore at twilight,
When whispers of the waves elicit their melancholy rhythms. Every grain of sand holds a story,
Count them, keep them close, for they wish to be gathered in shadows,
In your hands lies the vessel. Let it be formed of glass or polished seashell,
For what shape can cradle an essence? Hold it delicately,
Ever mindful of its ghostly weight.
Speak softly to the ebbing tides,
"Beneath the stars, within the breeze,
Fragments of time, succor me, please,"
This is the way to evoke the custodian of sands.
Pour the sands through your fingers,
But handle them with care as the lullabies seep into the crevices of your soul.Once gathered, amend them with reverence,
Each grain sings a silent carol, forever bound in memory.
And now, the soft echo resounds… Engage in Echoes of the Void
Should one beckon more— venture to Haunted Melodies