In a land where the horizon wears dresses made of skies and whispers,
there are waves that hum soft secrets to the rocks.
The waves ask, "Do you see the stars dancing in the water?"
The rocks, silent and wise, nod with all their grayness.
Little fishes listen, but they can never tell
if it’s the waves speaking or the sound of dreams walking by.
Shadows of seabirds draw circles, spinning stories
that only clouds remember.