Perhaps it was not the sea, but the whispers of destiny, trailing fingers through the air, leaving behind an invisible haze. Somewhere within that haze, a balance was maintained, delicate as the surface of a starling's song. The echoes, pulsating and eternal, reminded of a time when everything was woven with intention.
Future Past and Chasing Enigmas.
Each wave a note, crashing against the cliffs of reality, a discordant symphony. The rhythm insistent, inscribing marks of lore upon the sands. Silent witnesses bore the weight of tides, the hidden depths, where truths lay suspended and yet breathless. An understanding whispered in currents, unfurling slowly like the dawn.
Destined to wade through remnants of reverie, chasing reverberations until the sea receded, leaving only silence.