When the sun whispers its secrets beneath the horizon, the tide pulls at the fabric of dreams, sewing them into the night sky's spangled tapestry. The journey is vast, yet constricted, an endless loop upon the waves' ever-repeating embrace. Rhythm like heartbeats, pulses like time itself—undulating, hypnotic, breathing in the painted dusk.
Follow the link, follow the stream, follow the path beyond sight and sound. Footsteps echo upon the melody of forgotten shores, bending time into resonance. Our feet are the drumbeats; our hearts, the echoing void. The universe dances, one leg hobbled by infinity's demand. Knot of the wisest.
Close your eyes. Open your soul. Become the current of your fears, your hopes, your transient identities spread like grains across the sands. The siren calls, unbidden, yet now it speaks with clarity all too familiar. Once more into the depth, once more into the labyrinth of memories, and again and again. Whisper of the butterfly.