Beneath the turquoise veneer lies a depth, much like the subconscious,
a realm where light falters and secrets slumber.
Here, the forgotten dreams of nature amalgamate,
whispered through currents and murmurs of leviathan form.
It is here, in ink-blackened halls,
that deformations of time dance with molecules,
deciphering enigmas—tales untold,
remnants of dreams lost in saline whispers.
The bioluminescent blooms pulse gently,
sporadic sparks in the profound embrace,
like neurons firing in the mind of some sleeping titan,
isolating truths from fantasy.
Strange patterns: currents float remnants softly,
spectral seaweeds like thoughts, drifting, grasping for cognition,
ensnared in the polyphase glow of darkness—it all reverberates,
echoing whispers long unuttered.
Employ vigilance, as truths are often concealed within
the tapestry of forgetfulness and surge—some notions cling,
others dissolve, forming abstract patterns, shadowed tales
that rest in the deep, the eternal slumber of ocean's memory.