In the beginning, a murmur reposed —
Shadows breathed softly at the edge of dawn,
and anchor lost its grasp in the twilight wind,
as sunlight uttered ancient syllables
woven from the unfazed starry whispers.
Farewell, it spoke — the dreams are anchored days,
dappled with histories untold; gently they linger
in forgotten task, lost in pulse of sky-lost seas,
their anchor kith scattered between earthly embrace.
Was it not the cadence of their longing,
drawn by celestial tides twirling amber vanes,
souls murmur amidst fragmented halcyon anchor?
Unearth the caverns
Turn toward the compass