They say the tide carries whispers, secrets untold, murmurings archived beneath the corroded moon. I drift, like a forgotten leaf, caught in the current of what once was.
Days blur into an endless haze, each dawn indistinguishable from the last. Here on this solitary shore, I contemplate the undulating rhythm of the cosmos, seeking a sign in the salt-stung breeze.
In the whispering tide, I hear echoes of joy long past. Voices dance like phantoms around me, playful and distant. They beckon from the shadows, calling me to join their ethereal embrace.
I stand at the precipice, where the land meets the ocean’s edge—a transient oracle in my own right. Am I the seeker, or have I become the sought? These reflections pierce deeper than the tide’s infinite reach.