Tide Hymn

The ocean stirs within me, ever restless, as I become one with its murmurs. From a tranquil current beneath the azure surface, I hear the hymn of hidden depths sing. It possesses me in echoes—gentle waves persuading stones to forget their steadfastness.

Here, time ebbs and flows, a rhythmic pulse. We wander flora and fauna, dwelling in serenity, gathering reflections like pearl-laden secrets. The seaweed's kiss upon the sand feels soft, like whispered promises, never to linger long.

Amidst this quiet tempest, I remember the sailors' tales—of how men navigate by stars and dreams alike. In the liquid vastness where leviathans slumber, memory is tide-shifted; forgotten ancients breathe still, forgotten, yet motioning kindly.

There is a solace in currents that dance below, where every ripple is a story unspooled from the horizon's edge. A transcendence, for I am not just watching the realm of sea and sky, I am part of it—an indigo heartbeat enshrined in the billows.

Yet what is the depth of my thought if not as transient as these cerulean waveforms? What hymn do I murmur when away from such an embrace? Is it the same song, or has the ocean altered the tune of my soul?

Dare to whisper your own tales anew at Sea Song or wander deeper into the abyss at Hidden Echoes.