Silence's String

She stood on the border between forgotten and found. Knuckles clenched, not of fear—not quite. The ocean whispered solemn secrets unheard since the dawn of echo itself. In a cottage timelocked away, The kettle on a desolate journey expects its whistle, but it knows not why it waits. Outside, a strange ballet of stars pairs with the rhythm of - What dances in accordance with its unheard partner? Beneath the pavement didn't history whisper, layering tales atop untelling slumberers? And as she walks, wary not of demons but of destiny dusted in yesterday. Ropes tether the unseen web, hope lubber, sail free— Tomorrow’s yesterday ends where the sea’s carousel - issues a serenade. A void in the forest orifice, where texts untread long hushed tongues. Can you hear it?