In the whispering shadows beneath the basalt ceiling of a vast cavern.
A: There, locked away, memories drift like floating seeds searching shallow soils.
B: Perhaps they have taken root. The vibrant tendrils seek remnants of their origins.
A: What lingers, left unchecked, entwines with pulse of gentle tides...
B: ...etching symbiosis on stones hardened by ancient burdens.
A: Chromatic echoes trail, whispering codes left barren by solitude.
B: Do our fearless laments send ripples through ethereal mirrors?