You hold a shell to your ear and listen not for the sea itself, but for the stories it cannot tell but wishes to. Inside, a world of vibrant frequencies bounces off the smooth cold walls.
The shell hums a distant ballad,
A lament of pelagic dreams,
In the soft embrace of the briny air,
Whispers of the ocean's heart.
Each echo a thread in the tapestry,
Woven with the salt of time,
Resonating vibrations form a dance,
In twilight's gentle quiver.
And here, in whispers, secrets lie,
Mermaids' tales and sirens' cries,
Frequencies that fold like oceans,
Distant yet achingly close.
Beneath the surface of normal sounds, there are frequencies yet unnamed, waiting in the folds of forgotten memories.
Traverse deeper through corridors of sound into the shadows and find those echoes yet unspoken, all woven in spectral threads of wisdom.
Extend those listening hours beneath the muted light, where waves caress with tender fingertips the sandy shores of dreams unrealized.
The whispers remind you to listen more keenly, to the conversations that drift through the ether as easily as they slip away.