Beneath each crest lies a question,
asked in silence, answered by echoes.
When the moon learns the song of stars,
it casts nets of silence to fathom.
Does the tide hear the rock's lament
when time's tide recedes in sorrow?
Each wave remembers, whispers forgotten truths,
unscripted by man, scribed by cycles.
Hidden harmonies influence our breaths,
we dance in accord with unseen waltzes.
Paths forged in nebulous thought,
the tide knows all names, remembers none.