As the cerulean dusk folded into itself, remnants of forgotten whispers1 drifted across the incandescent shore.
In the eternal ebb, we find artifacts of the soul: a leaf etched in sorrow, an echo formed in silence2, and a single tear, crystallizing under the moon’s gaze.
What sings beneath the shadows of time's ocean? Perhaps a melody long severed from its origin, or a pulse of stars that once let it buoyantly lead.