In the trembling silence, as shadows convict the light,
The undefined tides come forth, a dance of stolen sighs.
Mirrored in lunar ambivalence, they hum the ancient song,
A symphony written neither in ink nor despair.
Sand whispers secrets, traces less truths,
Beneath the wanderer's feet they dream of returning.
"What lies beyond the northbound horizon?"
Asks the voice of lost echoes, shrapnel star-stitchery.
Veins of the ocean pulse golden with twilight’s embrace,
The continuum weaves between breaths, an undefined reliance,
Mark the passage, carve the whispers,
In the abode of omniscience a soapstone guardian lingers.