There it is again, that voice, a whisper in the currents, flowing like memories lost in the phosphorescent drape of night. The sea, a mirror of thoughts, a canvas of rolling blue whispers, each crest gleams with secrets untold. What is time beneath these endless waves? A dream wrapped in tides, breathing in sync with the heartbeat of the moon.
Bioluminescence dances, a silent carnival of glowing hues, luring the lost and the wandering. Do you see how the light weaves stories?
Deep echoes murmur, tales grow moss like memories in shadows, cascading over forgotten stones,
glistening in the dark. When the ocean sleep walks, it carries the notes in its crystalline embrace.
Sometimes I imagine the waves are words, too, sentences that crash onto shores to rewrite destinies in sands unmarked.
Entwined with the whispers echo the forgotten verses, lost in the vastness, now remembered only in the dreams of night.
Do you feel it? The rhythm, the glow, like the pulse of the abyss?
Here lies the gem, hidden beneath layers of liquid whispers, waiting for an awakening touch to discover its truth. An iridescent note, an ethereal glow, that speaks of worlds beneath and memories beneath, entwined like tendrils of starlight in the abyssal planes.