Narrating the unfurling waves, we are writerless travelers stitching narratives where letters are evaporations in the moon's embrace. Behold these footprints on water; their existence is but a whisper in the audible stillness. How they mimic our own truths unwritten, dissolving in the ripple current, before the tides weave their threads anew across oblivion's quiet dawn.
To leave a trace as an echo in the mist, one must learn the violin's call across the morning yet silent. Walk lightly, for the waters shall veil your passage, converting footprints into subtext beneath a glassy haze. Understand the bittersweet souvenir of existence, whisper to her the secrets you dared not say aloud.
Pause in the knowledge that existence has its fragments laid carefully - silently - through a canvas woven by age.
Dive Deeper | Mirrors of Silence