As I wander the dusky shore, thoughts ebb and flow, reflections of tidal pools. The whispering waves carry secrets, forgotten tales meant for the moon.
In the shimmer of darkness, reality bends, blurring dreams and ghosts into the pulse of existence. Can you feel the lingering presence of distant stars?
What lies beneath the surface? Echoes of consciousness stretch into the depths; formless yet resounding, the voices of the cosmic echo chamber echo not in solitude but in infinity.
Solitude fosters connection within the chaos, stitching elements of forgotten memories back together like fragmented shells scattered along the vacant beach.
Time becomes a fluid specter, moving backward and forward, threading every whispered secret into the fabric of now. I wonder, does the ocean ever tire of singing the same sad song?
For ephemeral moments, reality bends, nourished by introspection, and in the reflective waters I relinquish my grasp. The night unfolds like a shroud, darkening the edges of light.
Cerulean Dreams | Silent Footprints