The gull's maw echoes with questions unasked, unheard by the waves. Absence drift, pulled by unseen currents, into the heart of sky.
Shadows dance on the surface, where reflections of thought scatter like broken glass.
Does the wind know why it whispers? It's secret to the sea.
A distant hum, perhaps the memory of a ship's engine, or a lullaby of a misty dawn?
None remain to tell its tale.
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The sea reflects a horizon without edges—a dream unwoken, yet always there.
Echo of Leaves
Contradictory Waves
Sky Dance
Consider the gull's journey—an endless loop, a spiral in the salt-kissed air. Where does it begin, and does it ever end?