In the whispering kelp forests beneath the sun-dappled ocean, thoughts drift like echoes beneath churning waters. A dichotomy of shadows, where liquid musings meld with ethereal breeze — a dance of whispers unfolds.
The sound of silence speaks, a pomegranate of dreams, split asunder, held by the fingers of a celestial tide. Through these veils, the horizon's division calls—
Hold, the radiant whisper fades
Touch, the fleeting sigh brightens
See, the echo of creation strengthens