Among the incantations of the water, where shadows merge with hushed silvers, echoes a lonely void.
The river speaks in tongues, an ancient tongue, of secrets unsaid and whispers concealed beneath spectral veils.
Flowing in binary rhythms, the water remembers... or perhaps it dreams.
Listen to the hermit reeds, their voices tangled in the weeping mist.
A shoreline of forgotten time, wrought with memories like shards of glass, glisten in the moon's averted gaze.