Ripples upon ripples, the melody of echoing footfalls. Water cannot hold, what air spins and steals. Gale, remember me not in quiet moments, for I am captured by the tread of wandering tides. Listen, crafting my path. Flow, the song of endless currents tiding away.
In this hidden cove, breezes weave stories untold, fleeting wisps of laughter entwined with the dance of jagged ink. The soul murmurs. Echo, how do you bask in these midnight tales?