A whisper descends, spiraling down through blue dimensions, where the light ceases its reign. It is the echo of a dream, splintered and vast, rippling through watery canvases. Each echo a time capsule, caressed by currents unseen, murmuring the secrets held by the ocean's shadowed halls.
And yet, the whispers speak in tongues woven by time and tide—a cryptic language of marine silences that stretch into infinity. Shadows dance to harmonious notes of solitude, harmonics trapped in a slow embrace of algae and ancient kelp forests, where mermaids might weave sorrows into the seafoam.
Echoes, perhaps unheard tomorrow, linger today, in the breath of systemic waves. The ocean, with its million secrets, breathes, exhales stories in fractal patterns. Cycles incomplete... each wave is the heartbeat of marine worlds, pulsing and restless.
We are but echoes ourselves, reverberating through the chambers of time, mirroring the ocean, as the void tracks our voices with predictable wrath or love. The abyss listens intentively; do you hear its murmur...?
In every echo, a story, a haunting joy, and saxophones of seahorses playing near the craggy coasts—playing tunes lost on the human tongue but lived in their safe, oceanic realms.