Hum of the Depths

Beneath the frothy surface, a melody. Not of angels or harps, but of dark currents pulling the soul. They say the ocean sings when the moon is fat and the stars itch to dance, a gentle trembling sonic embrace that languages its ageless sorrow.

Some nights, when the world sleeps foggy and unaware, I sit by the shore and listen—the ocean's hushed reign over its forgotten thrall. It tells stories of wrecks, of whispers that weave through endless tides. Lullabies that spin like coral, firm yet fragile; they cradle, they soothe, they promise otherworldly connection.

Between sands and abyss lurk questions whose answers rot in shipwrecks. Sing along if you dare, the sea hums a canopy of secrets. Ancient warnings tangled with forgotten truths rumble beneath, inviting the brave and the foolish alike.

And perhaps, the sea speaks of you—each wave curls etching your name momentarily in the salty foam. A narrative between breath and bow, resting within the lull; you're caught in its siren's serenade, tender but resilient, echoing eternally in the blue embrace.