Whispers intertwine, like serpents in the night,
blending with echoes from the ocean's heart,
a telepathic breeze winnowing through thought.
In these depths, the resonance lingers, timeless,
a cry intertwined with stars yet unshone.

Beyond the veil, a slithering wisdom speaks,
borne on the tides where shadows weave dusk and dawn.
"Dance, oh child of the cosmos," it murmurs,
"let the abyss cradle your secrets, let them sing."

The tides are alive, a potion of dreams and memories,
another whisper, another linear arc bending,
forging constellations in the canopy of remembrance
where every echo finds its own horizon.