Beneath the moonless shroud, the abyss calls, its echoes cradling twisted memories. The ancient mariners' song drifts through the cold breath of the sea, an erratic pulse of consciousness lost, yet lingering.
They spoke in tongues sculpted by waves,
Eulogies etched onto barnacle-laden hulls,
Fables of mermaids with hollow eyes—
The kind that lure with silence, then drown with whispers.
In the tides’ embrace, shadows gather, forming figures of blight and woe. A lighthouse flickers, its beam a fleeting promise, swallowed by the deep.
Seek not the fjord of solace, for there the waters dance, chaotic and wild. In their rhythm lies a secret: the
heartbeat of a leviathan, slumbering beneath the abyssal plains.
Entangled in Echoes
The siren's voice, a heartbeat of the ocean,
vibrates through forgotten hollows,
weaving through coral tombs.
Mortality tied to the ocean's errant brens,
Each whisper a tether to once-was.
I Am, Calls the Shadow
Rise again, whispered the waves,
to those echoes once adrift,
yet never to the shore would they belong.