Across the ebb of cyclonic contortions, nameless faces rise from the brine in cascading disarray.
Lapping against the shore as if whispering riddles untold, the tide turns backward in a ballet of vintage allure.
Echoes of forgotten sonatas weave through the surf, each curling foam a frame left behind in time.
We remember the ballads, played not by human hand but by currents sprawling in chaos unrefined:
a serenade rendered obsolete, a requiem danced upon with sets adrift.
Legends say the waters hide the chorus of drowned stars, casting light as they ravenously flow.
Intrigues of photons distributed unevenly gather resolve only haltered by tidal hymns.
They sing in multitudes - sea-chants in reverse.
Echoed reflections of orbs bright in unstable piercings of astral realms -
when at peace, they sway in rhythms of looping myths unmade.
Can you hear the unseen ballroom, where veils stitched with luminescent tears cleave stories of epochs due?
Dance here, on sands soaked in moonlight refracted a thousand shivers.
Let us trace these patterns, returning lace drawn under the face of eve.
Jigsaw of the forgotten ballads, each step a remnant drawing void-light in wave cycles refracted upon stone.
Dance in Divination through ocean's cracked fingers that time did not tame.