When you gently cup your ear, a murmur, soft as dawn's touch upon cool waters, reaches back from the distant shores of yesterday. Is it mimicry, or memory, that laps within your mind, echoing subtle motifs of life's tender verses?
Each ripple an echo, unfolding in whispers, turning within itself, stories wrought from reveries, from shadows cast over horizons unseen, where form and idea blur— voices merging with the essence of time.