Along the sunlit corridors of time,
the tide meanders in rhythmic pulse,
carved tales by the whispering winds,
murmurs of the sea, a forgotten dance.
Here, the shadow walks, echoes of
footfalls in empty halls, where
the moon's embrace painted silver
upon the sands of memory, untold.
Driftwood and conch shells, remnants
of yesternight's dreams, wash ashore
etched in salt, a script lost to
the language of land and sea—time's tide.
In the sand, a sigil appears, fading
like whispers in the wind, calling
the curious traveler to unravel
the enigma, to decipher, to believe.
Embark on the unseen path, a forgotten
road, one sings of where light kisses
the horizon, diving down where depth
reveals treasures lost, left behind.
Will you follow the echoes?
Enter the darkened woods
or perhaps
Walk the silent shore?