The waves, silent and sprawling, mirror the skies forgotten shades of blue, as a voice, barely a whisper, begins to travel from the depths. Beneath the ripples, a landscape unfolds—undulating currents, unseen creatures running paths unseen before...
In the crevices of your mind, what echoes persist? A question beyond questions, a pursuit without memory.
They said, perhaps half-remembered during dreams, to follow the constellation of the absent forth and cast nets through the hued shadows. Each thread, a line knitted with intention, unraveling softly through the abyss. Do you hear the hum? A signal crossing time and space...
But the maps lie askew, filled with inkless outlines, tracing the unknowns, leading to intersections bereft of paths. Lost transmissions, ever-receding like a melody sung from some lost lighthouse, eternally out of reach, its echo fading and fading and fading...