A measure, not of time nor of space, but of inevitability.
The ocean whispers to the unwritten sands, a script written by the moon's dance.
An armada of thoughts, sailing outward, bound only by horizon's embrace.
Within these waters, we chart the rhythm of dreaming wakefulness.
Often unseen, these currents stretch to touch lands of forgotten shorelines.
Pulsing tides, scripted by the orbit of untold familiarity, measure emotion's depth.
A paradox measured in lunar light, the duality of rising and falling.
Here is the silent conversation between the fixed and the fluid.
Let the stars record our passage, in ink only the waves understand.