Beneath the tides of obscured memory,
Where echoes fold into the abyss,
Shadows woven from silk and stone,
Murmured secrets grasped by the ocean's breath
The lighthouse dim and ghostly,
A sentinel to whispered truths,
Each wave carries a confession,
Each crest a tale of misbegotten dreams.
When night sips the last embers of light,
The sea sings, stitched together by cries untold,
Listen closely, reader.
The fabric beneath the murmurs may unravel to your touch.